IA: A Prelude to War
by Crayz9000
Summary: First book of a series. 30 years before Yavin, a massive Jedi expedition known as the Outbound Flight disappeared in the unknown regions of the galaxy. Most assumed it had been destroyed by an alien named Thrawn... but what if that assumption was wrong?
1. Prologue

A Prelude to War

First book in the Intergalactic Alliance Trilogy

A crossover Star Wars - Star Trek fiction by Crayz9000

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DISCLAIMER

Specially trained ASCII characters performed the stunts in this book. Do not attempt to repeat them at home.

According to current NASA data, Voyager is leaving the solar system. It is unknown when it will encounter the Caretaker's array, or if it will be of any use to the Ocampa. In any event, we can only hope that any aliens who come across it know how to play analog phonographs.

Non-original names and characters used without permission. No money is being made off this story, although I can always dream, can't I...

The author reserves some rights to original characters or locations created. All other characters, locations, and situations are the property of Paramount Films or Lucasfilm Limited.

Star Trek © Paramount Films, Inc.

Star Wars © Lucasfilm Limited

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PROLOGUE

The planet was unrecognizable.

In his life, he had visited hundreds of worlds in the known galaxy. Each one of them was unique in its own way, but all shared common themes. In some cases, it was the inhabitants. Humans, for reasons poorly understood by most historians, had risen to become the dominant species of the galaxy at some point during the past fifty thousand years. Therefore, most planets tended to have at least some minority of humans among the population.

Architecture was another common theme. For those planets that had been in contact with the rest of the galaxy, they tended to import architects from several great architectural schools. One of the oldest architectural colleges in the galaxy was located on the capital of the Republic itself, Coruscant.

Coruscant! Many knew it as the glittering gem of the galaxy. The planet's night side was never dark, illuminated with countless trillions of lights from the planet-spanning city. Spire-topped towers rose up kilometers above the plain, industrial-looking blocks of the lower levels. During the day, light reflected off the chromed spires, causing the city-world to shimmer like a giant jewel.

But Coruscant this planet was not. The narrow, rough stone-paved streets of this city were lined with short, quaint two and three story wood-framed buildings. In the distance, a four-cornered skeletal tower curved to a singular point rising high above the rest of the city. Of course, he noted detachedly, the peak of the spire would have barely poked above the lowermost of Coruscant's underlevels.

As he walked down one particularly wide, straight stone-paved boulevard, he heard the distinctive tones of music from string instruments. The melody was quite pretty, almost haunting. It would have been quite romantic, had he been able to share the moment with a loved one.

At the end of the boulevard, a tall, square-framed arch of grand proportions stood. As he approached closer to the building, he began to discern glyphs carved into the stone of the building in an alien script. The building had obviously been erected as some sort of monument, most likely to commemorate a military triumph.

His wanderings eventually brought him to an estate surrounded by wide, expansive gardens. While the gardens at the entrance were filled with neatly manicured shrubs and delicate-looking, incredibly colorful flowers, further inside the gardens vegetables of various types that he'd never seen before were growing.

The air around the mansion was likewise filled with the songs of at least a dozen different species of birds. From that and the angle of the sun, he guessed that it must have been the beginning of the growing season.

While he continued to drink in the surroundings, he observed a humanoid step out of the front entrance of the mansion. Unlike the rest of the city, which seemed to be mostly populated with humans, this humanoid had a tapered head with odd wrinkles, ridges, and multicolored spots. The alien wore an ill-fitting white shirt with double rows of buttons. The observer decided a moment later that the alien's pants were some of the ugliest he had ever seen.

The alien strolled through the flagstone pathways of the gardens with a distinct bounce in his step. Coming to one corner of the garden, he leaned over and ripped a tuber from the ground. As he began walking back, he paused at a thin-leafed plant with brilliant red fruits hanging from it. Then he leaned over again and reached out to flick a bug from one of the leaves. His finger made contact with the caterpillar, which sailed through the air and landed with a resounding _thud_.

The alien blinked in surprise, looking at his finger as if he'd never seen it before. He shrugged and flicked another bug off of the plant; this one also landed with a crashing noise that shook the ground. The alien pinched himself, flinching as he did so, and turned around.

Then his mouth went wide and a quiet scream escaped his throat. The observer turned to follow his gaze and suddenly realized that the ancient city was now on fire, dozens of columns of smoke rising into the sky.

As he watched, a glowing, golden orb of plasma sailed through the sky. It crashed into one of the mansion's towers, shattering windows, setting the wooden roof alight, and blackening the masonry of the tower itself.

The alien took off at a run for the front gate, obviously intent on saving his own life. The observer followed at a distance, and suddenly the alien ran headlong into another humanoid figure. Unlike the first alien, this one was horribly disfigured, most of its skin removed and the rest of the skin covered in tattoos. At first glance the scarring appeared to have been accidental, but as the observer continued to look, he realized that the scarring was so thorough that it must have been intentional. The end result was that it appeared as a ghastly, skeletal horror held together by nothing but sinews and unholy willpower. It was certainly enough to give children-or adults, for that matter-nightmares.

From somewhere on its form, the horror produced a wicked-looking curved and serrated knife. It brandished the knife and the alien took several steps back in shock before tripping over a planter box. The observer had seen what happened next on more occasions than he cared to count. For that matter, all one had to do was to turn to one of the HoloNet nature channels and watch a documentary on the predators of almost any planet in the galaxy.

The horror and alien circled each other, hunter and prey. It feinted with the knife several times, the alien jerking back reflexively, before finally lunging and slashing across the back of the alien.

"Enjoy the sweet kiss of pain!" the horror said in a guttural, halting language. The observer was somewhat surprised to be able to understand the words. "You will live to serve the..."

The observer suddenly felt the world fading away around him. "Live to serve the who?" he said despite the lack of any listeners. As rapidly as the old city had faded away, the cockpit of a ship gradually revealed itself to him. The odd lights outside the viewports indicated that it was currently in hyperspace, and in the pilot's seat sat a woman with brilliant reddish bronze hair that flowed over her shoulders in gently curling waves.

She looked oddly familiar, he decided, moving forward to take a look at her face. She turned away just as he did so. From what he could see, however, she was resting her chin in the palms of her hands, and her elbows were sitting on the console in front of her. She didn't appear to be doing anything immediate, leading him to conclude that she must be lost deep in thought. Unfortunately it was impossible for him to read minds, so he was left guessing about what she was thinking.

After staying in the same position for what seemed like an eternity, she leaned back in the chair first, then came to her feet and stretched. When she turned to walk out, the observer finally caught a glimpse of her face and would have jumped in surprise, had it been possible for him to do so. She was one of his former students, the daughter of a woman who had once long ago captured him to be her husband.

As she continued walking past the observer, he noted a small smile creep across her face. Mentally shrugging, he followed her down the corridor of the transport and into the darkened crew berths, where she brought the light up to a dim glow and, humming softly to herself, began to remove her tattered jumpsuit.

He quickly turned away. "This is just not right," he muttered to himself. "Just not right at all. What the kriff is this supposed to mean, anyway?"

Behind him, he heard sheets rustle and someone coughed. Then a man asked, "Am I dreaming?"

The observer blinked again in surprise. He knew the man that voice belonged to, and turned around to see if he was right. The woman was now standing with her back turned to him, clad only in her undergarments, and in the lower berth a young, brown-haired man sat up blinking owlishly in the light.

"If you were, you would be disappointed when you awoke," the woman dryly commented. "There will be no such disappointment now."

The observer rolled his eyes. If there was anything he was supposed to learn here, this certainly wasn't it. As the two began kissing, he walked out of the room and back to the cockpit, then took a seat in the co-pilot's chair and stole a glance at the instrument panel.

Just as he did so, the sky of hyperspace suddenly devolved into a dizzying starburst of lights. The ship had been decanted back into realspace, and the observer instantly began looking for the source as alarms began blaring all over the cockpit. The source wasn't terribly hard to find; not one, but several black shapes that dimly glowed with greenish light floated motionless in the distance.

One of the ships projected a green beam at the small transport, and began to pull it in closer. There was a clatter of feet behind him, and the man and woman ran into the cockpit, halfway clothed and quite out of breath.

"Blaster bolts!" the man exclaimed as he began flipping controls in a frenzy. "I thought the wormhole had been sealed?"

"Obviously not," the woman answered. "Or they would not be here."

"I can't break the tractor lock," he said a moment later.

The two looked at each other and then kissed. "We are Jedi," they both said simultaneously. "We've faced greater challenges than this before."

He shivered as his view went black again. He'd never seen any ships like those black cubes, which seemed to radiate malevolence. And what did they mean by their last words? Being pulled in by a fleet of ominous ships, alone, and without support was a tall order to handle, even for a Jedi, and he was left with a general feeling of inevitability when he thought about them.

This time, the blackness remained, and the observer blinked several times to check if it was his eyes or something else. As he looked around, he spotted a point of green light, and a momentary chill passed through him. Was he on one of the black vessels he saw?

Suddenly the light blinked. He recoiled in shock, crashing into something that fell over and shattered. He started to swear, then suddenly realized that he hadn't been able to interact with anything in the apparent vision...

"Room, lights on," he ordered in a hoarse voice.

The room was instantly bathed in the light of several glowpanels embedded in the ceiling, and with a hint of irascibility he realized that he'd knocked a large crystal vase off the table, which is what had shattered.

"Luke?" an incontestably feminine voice beside him asked, a voice that sounded vaguely familiar. "What's going on?"

Groaning, Luke Skywalker came to his feet and looked around. He noticed that he'd somehow fallen off the bed. His wife Mara Jade-Skywalker was currently staring at him with bleary eyes, the bedsheets bulging over her swollen abdomen. Glancing around, he observed that the blinking light was merely that of an emergency monitoring system.

He finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"What are you doing over there?" Mara asked again, her voice containing a hint of a plea.

"I think I fell out of bed," he replied as he lifted the sheet to get back in.

"No, you know what I mean," she replied through her pillow, shivering from the cold air that he'd let in by lifting the sheets. "You were mumbling, tossing and turning, then I heard a thump and a crash."

Luke paused to think. Had he really been tossing and turning?

"I had a vision of a possible future," he finally decided aloud.

Mara propped herself up on one elbow and regarded him with interest. "Really? What was it about?"

He explained about the alien he had seen on the strange planet, and the horribly scarred creatures that had attacked it for no reason.

"Well, that could be anywhere, couldn't it?"

Luke shrugged. "It could, but why would the Force choose to show me a planet if I don't know where it is?"

"Maybe you'll go to that planet in the future."

"I suppose..." He trailed off, looking at the blackness outside his window. "Anyway, after that part of the vision I saw Tenel Ka's ship."

Mara frowned. "The _Rock Dragon_? That's odd."

"I know. She was traveling through hyperspace, I don't know where, and so she gets up, goes back to the sleeping area. Then she starts kissing Jacen-"

Out of nowhere, a slap landed on his face. "You're such a pervert, farmboy," she said with a laugh. "Spying on your nephew and his girlfriend in a Force vision. What's next, a vision of the locker room?"

"Only if you're the one in the shower," Luke replied with a playful grin, then reached for a glass of water from the table next to the bed.

She tilted her head ever so slightly. "Ooh, so naughty. You're going to have to wait until the baby's born, Master Skywalker, before you get to have me again."

Luke spit up a little bit of the water. "Right. Anyway, I wasn't quite finished. So while they're making out, something yanks the ship from hyperspace and they run to the cockpit. Turns out they're surrounded by large, square black ships, and one of them locks a tractor beam on them. Then they said something about a sealed wormhole, and how they'd faced greater challenges before. I'm really not sure what that meant."

"Well, it sounds like something happens that puts them in danger," Mara replied an instant later. "Although... a wormhole? I can't recall any existing wormholes in the galaxy."

"Maybe someone's going to discover one?" Luke suggested.

"Maybe," Mara agreed. "We'll just have to wait and see, I guess. Can we go back to sleep now, honey?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart," Luke said, turning toward Mara. "Room, lights off."

The last thing he was aware of before going to sleep was Mara wrapping her arms around him.

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Far in the future and far, far away, a certain vessel was quite busy violating (or simply stepping around, depending on one's point of view) laws and theorems that Einstein had created over four hundred years before. Of course, the fact that Einstein had conceived those theorems at a time when space travel was entirely in the realm of science fiction, and the only thing capable of even going near space was the German V-2 rocket (no larger than a school bus), meant that the idea of a three hundred and forty-four meter starship traveling at two hundred times the speed of light was simply inconceivable.

The shape of the ship itself was elongated and streamlined, unlike the rocket-ships conceived by science fiction authors such as the celebrated Jules Verne. Its forward hull was somewhat egg-shaped, although it looked as if it had been cut in half down the center. On the curved upper part of the hull, a small indentation concealed an equally small circular dish. Below it, mounted somewhat further aft, was a far larger dish that rather resembled a capital 'D.' Both dishes glowed brightly with a trace of blue, and they were designed to ensure that the ship would not be turned into a colossal colander by the impacts of hydrogen atoms.

Even so, many parts of the ship's hull were scorched and blackened where thin layers of armor plating had worn away. In some areas, the internal structure of the ship could be seen, with plasma conduits and various pipelines exposed to space. Printed immediately above the auxiliary deflector dish in large lettering was the ship's registry of NCC-74656; further aft one might make out USS VOYAGER through the missing armor and holes in the hull.

Now that one had seen the ship, they might have wondered exactly what government this starship belonged to. Certainly not any one of the major powers in the area; this part of the galaxy was more or less the backwater area, with a large part of space controlled by a race that is better off not being mentioned.

But even if the crew of this strange ship was concerned about the threats surrounding them, they did not show it.

"Captain," Lieutenant Commander Tuvok's voice echoed across the bridge of the Federation Starship Voyager, "I seem to be picking up an object."

Captain Kathryn Janeway didn't reply immediately, being immersed in a book. She finally placed it aside, and looked up at the darkened viewscreen. "On screen."

"It's out of visual range," he reported. "At the limits of our long-range sensors."

"Range?"

"Ten light-years off our present position, inside what would appear to be a fairly typical star system. No other objects have been detected within the system."

Janeway stood up and turned around. "Composition?"

"Primarily metallic, made of an unknown alloy. It is most likely a vessel of some type."

She thought for a moment. "Is there anything else worth knowing about it?"

Tuvok was silent for several seconds while he worked his terminal. "Its course seems to be taking it toward the fourth planet of that system, class unknown."

Captain Janeway nodded, turning toward the viewscreen, deep in concentration. She finally turned back. "Have you hailed it?"

"Yes, Captain, with no response."

"Plot an intercept course with the object," she ordered Lieutenant Paris at the helm, "and increase speed to Warp Eight."

Paris immediately began working. "Course set," he reported. "Increasing warp velocity to factor eight."

Janeway walked back to her chair and sat down, pulling out the book she had been reading-Jules Verne's _Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea_-and tried to find her position in it. Soon she was engrossed in the adventures of the submarine _Nautilus_...


	2. One

**CHAPTER ONE**

To say that the air in the main chamber of the ancient Massassi temple was humid would have been a severe understatement. Imagine an old-style sauna, with water being turned into steam over a wood-burning fire. Now replace the wood with two hundred Jedi trainees of varied species, the wholesome smoky scent of the wood with the odor of two hundred bodies, and you approached the atmosphere present in the chamber. But in this case the steam was actually invisible vapor, a sticky addition to the air that could not be seen although it could be felt.

Jacen Solo, standing two rows from the front of the room, certainly felt the humidity. He reached up and loosened the traditional brown cloth robe that he was wearing for the meeting, fanning himself slightly as he did. A half-dozen unpleasant odors assaulted his nostrils, and he decided at that point to rank the smell of damp Wookiee up at the top of his list of unpleasant odors. Considering that Lowbacca, Chewbacca's two plus meter tall Jedi nephew, was standing directly in front of him it was no surprise at all.

On one side of him, he heard a quiet snort, and he turned to look. His sister Jaina turned her face away from him, attempting to cover her mouth in the process. Jacen sighed at the distraction; here he was, nineteen years old, and being laughed at by his sister as if he were only twelve. If there was anything he hated the most about having a Jedi-talented twin sister, that was it: the fact that they almost always knew what the other was thinking.

Pushing all thoughts of his sister aside, Jacen leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Immediately, everything that he hadn't noticed while his eyes were open snapped into focus: the plethora of aromas that wafted about the Grand Chamber, the sounds caused by several hundred trainees, various conversations taking place. Most of the conversations, he idly noted after about a minute, were merely the usual gossip that floated about the Academy. There were some people theorizing about what the meeting was going to be about-he listened to one of those with mild interest-and other conversations concerned the preceding day's assignments.

He sat up and looked toward the exit, wondering if he would see anyone coming in. A slight clatter from above his head distracted him, and Jacen looked up to see a woman, clad in a grey suit that seemed to be made of a type of reptilian hide, descending from one of the temple's skylights. Slowly, she rappelled down the rope, using only her feet and one hand, and finally landed in front of an empty seat next to Jacen. She quickly snapped the smartrope, which detached from the rock face a dozen meters above and landed (albeit somewhat disorganized) in her hand. Several students applauded.

"You always were one to make a grand entrance, Tenel Ka," Jacen commented with a smile on his face as the Dathomirian warrior and sometime Hapan princess coiled her smartrope.

"I decided that it would be easier than pushing through a smelly crowd," she replied nonchalantly after she'd clipped the cord to her belt. Running her hands through her red-gold braids to straighten them out, she continued. "Have I missed anything?"

Jacen shook his head. "No, they haven't even started yet. We're still waiting for Uncle Luke and Corran."

"Good." She sat down, releasing a heavy sigh. Jacen noticed that streams of sweat were pouring down her forehead.

"How hot is it out there?" he casually inquired.

Tenel Ka took a piece of cloth off her belt and wiped her face with it. "It's not as hot as it is humid. And it's definitely hotter in here."

"That's what I thought," Jacen replied. "I guess I'll have to ask Anakin to see about getting some condensers the next time he's offworld."

She nodded, but didn't say anything. For a few minutes, the only thing that Jacen heard from her was heavy breathing as she apparently tried to cool down.

"Looks like they've arrived," he finally said, looking toward the entrance. "You're right, Sis. Anakin's with them."

"And arguing with Kyp, it would seem," Jaina added. "I wonder why. They usually haven't had many disagreements."

Jacen shrugged, coming to his feet along with the rest of the trainees in the chamber as Master Skywalker confidently strode in. As Luke looked at the arrangement of the tables on the dais, however, Jacen thought for a moment that he could see a slight frown on his uncle's face. The frown quickly disappeared, leaving the younger trainee wondering what it was all about. He stood on his toes in an attempt to see over Lowbacca's shoulder, and noticed that the tables were arranged in a V-formation facing outward, which certainly was unusual. So maybe that was the problem, he decided.

Luke remained standing as the other Jedi Knights took their seats, and Anakin slipped through the rows of trainees to get to his brother and sister. Finally, when the tumult in the grand chamber had calmed down, he spoke.

"Jedi Knights and trainees," the Jedi Master began, "I apologize for keeping all of you in suspense as to the topic of today's meeting. I also apologize for the suddenness of this meeting, but unfortunately events occur in the galaxy far faster than I can respond to them."

There was a slight murmur as he continued. "Since communications are obviously restricted here at the Academy, most of you likely have not heard the recent news."

Luke drew his breath in. "Two weeks ago, Dr. Joto Eckels of the Obroan Institute approached me as they had not heard from one of their student research teams on the planet Bimmiel. I sent Corran Horn and his apprentice, Ganner Rhysode, to the planet to investigate." Luke gestured toward Corran, who immediately came to his feet.

Jacen wondered briefly why he was heavily leaning on his left leg, but put the thought aside as Corran glanced about himself, looking toward Luke briefly for approval before proceeding.

"As Master Skywalker mentioned, I left for Bimmiel with Ganner last week. Now, before I go any further, I would like to briefly give you some information on the planet itself." He stepped back, limping slightly, and walked over toward a holoprojector that had been set up in the center of the dais. Sliding what Jacen assumed to be a datachip into the machine, he then turned it on.

"This is Bimmiel," Corran began. "Not much to look at, really. But, as I discovered in the notes of the scientific team, it has quite an interesting ecology."

Jacen perked up at that point. Perhaps this wouldn't be another boring, pointless meeting after all.

"The planet follows a highly elliptical orbit, and its rotational tilt is very pronounced. The result of these factors is that the planet's surface is somewhat inhospitable, being covered mostly in sand dunes. It has two small polar ice caps, which the archaeologists theorized were being slowly worn away by the recent dust storms that have been sweeping across the planet's surface. The southernmost one is already surrounded by a large ocean."

Jaina yawned, distracting Jacen momentarily, and Corran switched the image displayed by the holoprojector. It now showed a small debris cloud that orbited the planet.

"We recovered the data recorder of the Obroan Institute research ship _Penga Rift_ in orbit. While the information on it was corrupted, as near as we can tell they were trying to escape to hyperspace when the ship was destroyed. We could find no sign of their attackers by the time we arrived."

He changed the view again, this time to show a wide, sweeping prarie on Bimmiel. While it seemed to be only grass, after looking at the large holo for several seconds Jacen thought he could make out some debris scattered across the plains.

"This was their campsite. Not much to look at, is it? We weren't sure who was aboard the _Penga Rift_, so we spent several days scouring the area but came up empty-handed. All the equipment was scattered around the campsite."

"So what did you find?" an overeager trainee inquired from the back of the chamber.

"We found signs that a group of them had sheltered in a nearby cave for a time. Most of the camp was smashed beyond recognition, but we found intact datachips in the computers. Corran reached for the holoprojector controls again.

Floating above him, a skull appeared. It was longer than a human skull, with a low cranial ridge. In addition to its odd appearance, it seemed to have many fracture lines and deformities. The cheekbones had been broken and reset in an odd fashion, resulting in the skull's face having a slope that went from left to right. The nose bones had also clearly been shattered, giving the skull an odd, leering appearance.

"What is that thing?" someone exclaimed.

Corran shrugged. "The scan labeled it as 'AR-312.' There were also scans of the entire corpse, and also a reproduction of the creature as it might have stood. I'll show that right now."

The hologram changed, now to display a full-size view of the humanoid. Human-style flesh had been added to give it somewhat of a more life-like appearance, but just from taking one look at it Jacen knew it wasn't even remotely human. It stood a half-meter taller than the typical human, and its shoulders were broad and powerfully built. Its face, which seemed to be painstakingly reconstructed from the skull, possessed the same leering, almost hideous quality that the skull had. The most disturbing feature were the numerous bony protrusions that extended through the skin all over the body.

"The scans identified this as being over fifty years old," Corran continued. "The coordinates on the chip showed it was discovered in the cave."

"What happened to the body?"

Corran shrugged. "If the camp had not been abandoned and ransacked, I would have said the students took it with them. But with the way that all of the scientific equipment was destroyed, and the fact that we could not find a single item identified on the scans, I believe that their attackers were specifically looking for this person's remains."

"Did you return this information to the Obroan Institute?" yet another voice asked. Jacen identified it as belonging to that of Raynar Thul, a marginally-talented student coming from one of the few remaining royal Alderaanian houses. He'd known Raynar since he had first joined the Academy, and was somewhat glad that he didn't have to see him given the rather garish robes, made of interweaved and often clashing colors, that the man often wore.

Corran shook his head. "Although the Obroan Institute sponsored the trip, it was organized by the University of Agamar. But to answer your question, yes, we did stop by Agamar on our way back and return the information that the scientists had collected before they vanished."

"Did you ever find the students?" another trainee asked. Jacen sighed; the interruptions were getting more than a little annoying.

"No," the Corellian answered. "When we returned the data to the University of Agamar, the researchers couldn't find anything like it in the databases. Based on the remains, they concluded that the group that attacked the students has been on or near Bimmiel for at least fifty years."

Raynar spoke up again. "How could a group that's been in this galaxy for at least fifty years have escaped our notice for that long?"

"I really can't answer that," Corran replied with a shrug. "There just isn't enough information, although I suppose that if the group's small enough, they could easily evade notice for years. Remember, we still haven't mapped out the entire galaxy; there are still thousands of unexplored stars in Wild Space."

The discussion dragged on for several more minutes, but Jacen found his thoughts drifting off to the figure in the hologram. _Who are they?_ he wondered. _And what do they want?_

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard the twittering of an astromech droid. Jacen quickly looked toward the entrance to the auditorium, just in time to see several people, all dressed in flight suits, come running in.

"That's Miko Reglia in the front," Jaina whispered into his ear. "Looks like Kyp's Dozen just arrived."

"Wonderful," he replied, still keeping his eyes fixed on the new arrivals. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the Jedi on the dais were also looking at the assorted pilots that had just arrived. It was then that he realized that the chamber had gone silent.

Jacen watched Miko climb the steps of the dais, give a slight bow toward Luke, and continue to Kyp. He then watched him hand-_what, a datapad?_- to the older Jedi. Kyp's face paled slightly as he read the datapad, which made Jacen even more curious. The Jedi then walked over towards Skywalker, and spoke with him for several seconds before stepping up to the podium as Corran sat back down.

"My apprentice Miko just told me about some new information that I have decided is relevant to this meeting," Kyp said. "With Master Skywalker's permission, we will begin."

He pushed some buttons on the datapad, then walked over to the holoprojector and did something-Jacen assumed he was inserting a datachip-before walking back to the podium. "This information was recorded by a sensor buoy that my squadron had placed in the outer areas of the Tingel Arm, perhaps about fifty light-years from Bimmiel." Kyp momentarily closed his eyes, and the holoprojector switched back on. A long list of coordinates and numbers were now projected into the air beside the podium. "Miko reports that there were some rather unusual findings. Miko?"

Kyp's apprentice stepped up to the podium and cleared his throat nervously.

"The beacon picked up a distress signal from a shipping convoy at about the same time that Corran and Ganner were on Bimmiel. Whoever made the transmission evidently thought it important enough to include a holofeed of their attackers."

Miko waved a hand at the holoprojector. The numbers morphed into what appeared to be an asteroid surrounded by the spinning, mangled wreckage of ships. Smaller rocks orbited around the larger asteroid, although Jacen couldn't help but notice after a few seconds that they seemed to be moving of their own accord.

Corran turned to Kyp with an intrigued expression. "Actually, that's very interesting," he remarked. "The data from the _Penga Rift_ showed some asteroids near the ship before it was destroyed. Now that I think about it, there were no asteroids near Bimmiel when we got there."

The auditorium erupted in conversation, and Jacen noticed that Kyp had a somewhat surprised expression on his face when Corran had spoken.

"Do you think this is connected with Bimmiel?" Jacen asked after almost half a minute had passed.

The older Jedi contemplated the question. "I can't say for sure," he finally stated, "although Miko is all for investigating both matters. I can't say I disagree."

Even more discussion erupted in the auditorium. Finally, Raynar raised his hand. "I don't think that we, as Jedi, should investigate this. I've heard reports of what your squadron had done, Durron. You've given us a bad reputation with the government, which is why they haven't been willing to give us the supplies we need anymore. I don't care what you want to do, because we will not support you."

Next to Jacen, Tenel Ka quickly came to her feet. "Raynar Thul," she began, "this is not the usual brush conflict. Innocent people have died, and we don't even know why. Or did you forget what Jedi Horn said about the students?"

Someone else a few rows back replied. "We're peacekeepers, as Master Skywalker keeps reminding us. Why, then, are we so eager to get into conflict? We should bring this to the attention of the Republic, and let them do the investigation-and get the blame if they make mistakes."

"The mandate of the Jedi is to preserve life in all forms," Tenel Ka sharply retorted, "and you would let people die without raising an eyebrow? What sense of morals do you have? We are already involved. We should find out what this means and then report to the Republic once there is enough information for them to make a decision."

"That's not what I was implying," the same voice said.

On the dais, Kyp raised his hand to cut the arguing students off. "If we inform the Republic of this," he pointed out, "nothing will be done until many more have died. Tenel Ka is right."

"Not the way _you_ do things." Raynar was now on his feet, but Jacen didn't bother to look at him. "You act as if you're the government, making decisions best left to those who are _supposed_ to be in charge."

Kyp's gaze on the Alderaanian was unrelenting. "So what do you propose doing, then?"

Raynar was obviously flustered. He opened his mouth several times as if to speak, but nothing came out the first few times. Finally, he seemed able to collect his wits. "We bring it to the Republic's attention and let them decide on the course of action, but no more than that."

Jacen shook his head as the room erupted in shouting. He would have expected this from Raynar, considering the problems they'd had with the Senate after they had taken it upon themselves to investigate the headquarters of the Diversity Alliance on Ryloth.

"Enough," Luke finally exclaimed in a strong voice that seemed to fill the chamber as he came to his feet. "This conflict is getting us nowhere. As one of you pointed out, we are peacemakers, not warlords." His voice softened somewhat. "We do not dominate the people; instead, we serve them. As such, I feel that we should investigate the situation, then report our findings to the Republic if it proves worthwhile.

"But," he added as he turned toward Kyp, "we should also not take an offensive stance unless we are given the authority to do so by the Republic. Our actions will be in self-defense, and self-defense only; if we are attacked, we will defend ourselves. Do I make myself clear?"

Kyp had a somewhat disappointed expression on his face, but he nodded. "Then we will do so, Master Skywalker. When should we leave?"

"I'll leave that up to you, Kyp," Skywalker replied.

The younger Jedi nodded, turning back toward the assembled Jedi. "Does anyone here want to come with my group?"

After a long period of silence had passed, Tenel Ka stood up, much to Jacen's surprise. "I will come," she offered.

"Good," Kyp said. "Anyone else?"

As the rest of the Jedi discussed the matter in hushed tones, Jacen leaned over toward Tenel Ka with an inquiring expression on his face. "Why?" he whispered.

"I have been planning on visiting my great-grandmother on Dathomir for some time now," Tenel Ka replied quietly. "It will be on the way, so I do not view it as much of an inconvenience."

Jacen considered what she had said for several moments, somewhat confused about the issues. "Would you mind if I came with you?" he finally asked.

"Not at all." She looked at him as if to say, _Thank you_.

Jacen immediately stood up, raising his hand. "I'll come."

"And so will I," Jaina said a moment later as she came to her feet.

Kyp nodded. "That makes three. Anyone else?"

A low, throaty roar broke the hushed atmosphere. Moments later, a somewhat tinny voice piped up, sounding absurdly weak in comparison. Jacen promptly identified the voice as belonging to the miniature translation droid Em Teedee. "Master Lowbacca expresses his strong desire to come as well," the droid said.

Lowie growled softly at Em Teedee, which jetted backwards on its repulsors. "What do you mean, I could have said it more plainly?"

Jacen shook his head, a wan smile on his face. It was kind of surprising that Lowie hadn't reprogrammed the little thing yet. See-Threepio had put a lot of his own personality into the droid when Chewbacca had first built it, and the results often showed.

"I think you're making a mistake," Raynar began to say, before Luke cut him off as he stepped up to the podium.

"We are all entitled to our own opinions, and I respect that," Skywalker began. "But this kind of dissention will not get us anywhere. As some of you may know, in several days I will be leaving for Coruscant to speak to the government about re-establishing the Jedi Council to handle just this kind of dispute."

"Who will be on the Council?" another trainee asked.

"That will be decided later," Luke replied. "As for now, this meeting is dismissed."

Jacen watched as the people on the dais filed down, some of them-most notably a Twi'lek, Daeshara'cor-with disappointed looks on their faces. He started to leave, but a hand held him back; he turned to see Tenel Ka grasping his shoulder.

"Not yet," she said, pointing toward the dais, where several of the Jedi remained. "I need to talk with Kyp first."

"No problem," he replied with a slight twang of jealousy-but just as quickly pushed the feeling aside, hoping that Tenel Ka hadn't noticed. He knew that there was absolutely no reason for such irrational feelings, but it happened all the same.

When the auditorium had all but emptied, the group walked toward Kyp, who extended his hand toward Jacen. "Thanks for your support," he said, a smile spread across his face. "I really appreciated it."

Jacen half-shrugged. "It wasn't really me," he admitted, wondering where this was going. Kyp's checkered past was fairly well-known to most of the Jedi. Some avoided him because of it; others were constantly asking him for advice. Jacen wasn't sure which group he fit into.

"Well, yes." Kyp turned toward Tenel Ka. "Thank you especially. I take it you're going to be flying your transport?"

"That is a fact," she replied. "Was there something else you had in mind?"

"No, no, of course not," the older Jedi replied as he ran a hand through his hair. "In fact, I was hoping you would be taking your ship. We can use its firepower if we run into trouble."

Tenel Ka nodded in reply, and Kyp turned toward Jaina. "And I hear you've become quite a pilot."

Jaina blushed slightly. "Maybe exaggerating a little, but I suppose so."

Kyp continued without pause. "We have a couple of new X-wings that'll be arriving from Incom in a few days. They're of the XJ variant... have you ever heard of them?"

Jaina nodded, her curiosity piqued. The XJ was a model designed, amid much publicity, to extend the life of the X-wing series and keep it competitive with newer starfighters. She had read the review of it in a _Fighting Machines_ quarterly as soon as it had been published. "I've heard a lot about them, actually."

"I was wondering if you'd like to fly one."

"I..." For a moment, the excitement flashed across her face. Then she remembered who was asking her the question, and closed her mouth. "I don't have any combat experience in X-wings."

"That's not a problem," Kyp replied. "There are a lot of ex-Navy pilots in the Dozen. I'm sure they'd be glad to help."

Jaina considered his offer for some time, her eyes turned toward the ground. "No," she finally said, jerking her thumb in Tenel Ka's direction. "No, I'd rather not-I think she could use my help as a copilot."

If Kyp was disappointed, his face didn't show it. "Whatever you want is fine with me. But if you ever want to reconsider, just remember that there'll be a pilot's seat open for you."

"Well, I'll keep that in mind," Jaina replied.

Another throaty bellow interrupted the conversation. "Master Lowbacca wishes to inquire as to how soon we will be leaving," Em Teedee translated for the Wookiee.

Kyp frowned. "We won't be able to leave for about a week. I want to make sure that the XJs are working right before we field-test them."

"Perhaps we can rendezvous on Dathomir, then?" Tenel Ka asked. "It would be nice to visit my great-grandmother."

"Sounds good to me." Durron looked up at the towering Wookiee. "And you, Lowbacca. I take it you'll be going with them as well?"

Lowie bleated a reply that Jacen took to be a yes.

"Good," Kyp finally said. "I'll tell my squadron that we'll meet you on Dathomir." He turned to Tenel Ka again. "Was there any specific place that you wanted us to meet you?"

"The Singing Mountain Clan fortress will do," the redheaded warrior replied. "I will let them know that you're coming."

"Thanks." The older Jedi stopped to shake everyone's hand-and paw-before turning to leave. "Dathomir it is. I'll see all of you there in couple weeks."

Jacen watched Kyp leave, a confused expression on his face. _What have I gotten myself into?_ he wondered.


	3. Two

**CHAPTER TWO**

"Captain's Log, Stardate 52128.1.

"After several days at high warp, we have finally reached the object, although my crew seems to be at a disagreement as to its identity. I will add more information to this as we learn more."

Captain Kathryn Janeway moved her hand down to the armrest controls on _Voyager_'s captain's chair and pressed the button that would stop recording her log. They had arrived in the system, as unremarkable as a thousand others they had passed by on their journey through the Delta Quadrant, to find a massive ship-she couldn't think of the object as anything but-drifting, derelict, on a course that would take it within ten thousand kilometers of the fourth planet in several months' time.

She held up a PADD and looked over the parameters for the fourth planet. It was marginally a class M world, with about 15 percent oxygen concentration. Low, but breathable. No traces of intelligence, only native flora and fauna that at least appeared harmless to _Voyager_'s cursory scan. So, she concluded, nothing of real interest.

Janeway looked back to the ship on the viewscreen. It was massive, not to the extent of a Borg Cube but still impressive in its bulk. At the center was a large cylinder, nearly a kilometer in overall length and roughly three hundred meters in diameter. An open framework had been built around its midsection, and attached to that framework were six squat, clamshell-headed structures that were individually approximately six hundred meters long.

She sighed and leaned back. When they had first noticed it, she had immediately suspected it might be something to do with the Borg. However, despite their presence so close nearby, it had not strayed from its course. In fact, it had shown no signs of being active at all. It had no warp core signatures, no impulse drive signatures, nothing even close to what the Borg used despite its rough-finished construction and clusters of pipes and conduits that jutted out from the surface of both the cylinder and the surrounding structures at random.

"Seven, have you been able to find out anything further with your scans?" she casually inquired, not expecting anything to have changed. They had, after all, been watching it for the better part of a day.

"Nothing..." The former Borg drone's voice trailed off suddenly. Janeway turned around to look at her and noticed that her normally calm face had taken on a perplexed expression. "Unusual," she stated. "There are over ten thousand life signs in the central core."

At the conn, Paris let out a slow whistle.

"Why didn't we notice that earlier?" Janeway asked.

Almost as if she was ignoring the question, Seven continued to tap away quietly at the controls. "I am reading high concentrations of neutronium in the hull alloys," she finally stated. "This makes their hulls very effective at blocking Federation sensors."

Janeway nodded. "I guess that explains the lack of shields, then. Their hulls are hardened against radiation. What about those ten thousand? What can you tell us?"

She was again quiet for some time as she worked the controls. "Seventy three point six seven two nine percent correspond to standard humanoid species. The remainder do not correspond to anything in the Federation databases, or species identified by the Borg."

"I'd think that would cover most of the galaxy," Commander Chakotay remarked from the seat next to Janeway.

"Almost," Janeway agreed, "but even the Borg haven't cataloged the galaxy yet. If they had, we'd be in even bigger trouble than we are now." She stood up, stretched, and turned to face Seven. "What else can you tell about them? They haven't responded to standard hails yet..."

There was more quiet tapping from the sensors console. "They are in some form of hibernation," Seven concluded. "All life signs show dramatically slowed metabolic rates. Heartbeats are very faint, almost nonexistent."

Realization dawned on Janeway. "It's a sleeper ship," she said, her voice barely carrying above her breath. "Like the one that Khan Noonien Singh commandeered... but where did they come from?"

"I believe I have an answer for that, Captain," Seven said, unaware that she was responding to a semi-rhetorical question. "There is an unstable system based around a type-4 quantum singularity, twenty-three light-years away along their trajectory. At their current velocity, it would have taken them approximately thirty years to cover the distance."

Janeway paced back and forth across the bridge several times, lost in thought. "Well, if they have been in hibernation, that explains the lack of response to hails. Presumably they do not have any automated equipment or did not consider it necessary. Or perhaps their ship is out of fuel and that's why it's shut down like this. I wonder how they planned on stopping?"

Seven opened her mouth but Janeway waved a hand to cut her off. "No, don't answer that. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation. What I want to know is how can we contact them?"

"Captain, with all due respect," Chakotay remarked from his seat, "I think the more important question is, _should_ we try to make contact?"

Janeway paused momentarily to consider the question. "Yes, we should," she began. "Computer, magnify." As the computer zoomed in on the alien vessel, she pointed at the screen. "Do you see the battle damage? Whatever was back in that system, they took at least as much of a beating as we have during the last several months. I think there's a good chance that we can find some common ground with them, and possibly help each other on our own ways."

Chakotay's gaze followed where her arm was pointing at the screen. "That's some impressive damage," he remarked after several moments had passed. "Whoever caused that must have packed quite a punch... perhaps even the Borg. How can we be sure that their pursuers aren't right behind, waiting to ambush us?"

"The damage characteristics are not consistent with Borg weapons," Seven chimed in from the station behind them. "It appears to have been caused by a combination of coherent beam weapons and focused nuclear initiations. Furthermore, there are no warp or transwarp signatures within a twenty light-year radius of this system."

Janeway turned her head slightly. "Thank you, Seven," she said before focusing back on Chakotay. "There, you see? In fact, it sounds like the weapons were downright primitive. And with all we've been through, I'm sure that we would be more than up to handling a bunch of pre-warp spacefarers with only lasers and nuclear weapons, should they even decide to show up."

Chakotay sighed; it was obvious the Captain was unwilling to budge. "Very well, I'll trust your judgment. How should we proceed?"

"Standard First Contact procedure will suffice," Janeway replied. "Lt. Commander Tuvok, please prepare an away team. We need to see if anyone's still awake over there."

"Of course, Captain. I assume you and Lieutenant Seven will be joining us?" the Vulcan replied.

"Naturally," Janeway replied.

A short time later, Janeway stepped out of the turbolift into the transporter room. Only an ensign was present, attending the control station, and as he stood to attention he pointed her toward the ready room. Apparently a heated discussion was taking place inside, judging from the raised voices she heard on the other side of the door.

"What seems to be the issue?" she asked as she walked in.

"Ah, there you are," B'Elanna Torres, Voyager's chief engineer, sighed in relief. "We're trying to figure out how to get in. Seven doesn't think our transporters will punch through that hull of theirs, and we can't seem to find any weak points, or access hatches, in the cylinder that we can beam through."

"We could go EVA," one of the five ensigns on the team – Alexander Munro, if she remembered correctly – said. "There has to be some sort of external release, or we could just cut our way in."

Janeway shook her head. "No, no cutting. That might look too aggressive."

"Then what?" he asked. "We go and knock politely, and hope they wake up?"

She glared at him before Torres spoke up. "How about the damaged areas?" the half-Klingon engineer asked. "We could beam into one of those sections and enter through the internal doors. That way, we shouldn't trigger any automatic defenses or anything of the sort."

"That sounds like it could work," Janeway agreed. "Tuvok? Can you find a good entry point?"

"Already locked on," he replied. "Everyone, suit up and meet me back at the transporter pad."

It took Janeway longer than she expected to put on the cumbersome EVA suit. The next several minutes were spent checking each other's suits to make sure that none were leaking, and finally they stepped up to the pads.

"Energize," Tuvok ordered, and Voyager's transporter room dissolved into blackness. Janeway reached up and flicked her helmet lights on, casting two cones of light over a complete disaster area. As she surveyed the area, floating in the microgravity, the other team members turned their own lights on.

Whatever the room they were in had been, it was completely ruined. Aside from one end being open to space, the metal surrounding the tear had been melted and distorted inwards. Blackened shapes that could have been pieces of cargo or equipment were scattered around, some half-fused into the walls and others drifting loosely.

"Does anyone see a door?" she asked after looking for several minutes in vain.

"Over here," Ensign Kim's voice rang out through the comm. "But it's behind some debris that I can't get through."

A half-hour's worth of work with a cutting torch later, they had managed to clear the debris – several girders and deck plates had collapsed in front of the bulkhead.

"Damn it, why won't you open!" Lieutenant Torres exclaimed in frustration from in front of the apparent door control panel before she slammed her fist into the wall, then cried out in pain. Her temper had become legendary among the engineering crew, and Janeway had heard rumors of jokes about her short fuse. For some reason, though, when she had asked nobody could remember there being any jokes.

"I'm reading atmosphere beyond the bulkhead," Seven observed as she fiddled with her tricorder. "Perhaps that's why."

Something clicked with B'Elanna and she reached for her commbadge. "Transporter room, this is Lieutenant Torres. We need an emergency containment forcefield generator and an atmosphere kit beamed over here."

"Just a moment," the reply came over the comm. "Let me check with Engineering and we'll set up the point to point transport." Several long moments later, the equipment appeared in a shimmer of light in the middle of the area. B'Elanna wasted no time in grabbing the forcefield generator and clamping it to the wall.

As she was setting it up, Munro and Tuvok drifted past with the atmosphere kit. "Where do you want it?" Tuvok asked.

"Right there is fine," Torres replied, not even looking up from the generator. "OK, look. I don't know how bad the hull breach is, so I'm not even going to try sealing it. What I am going to do is set up a small bubble right outside this door and fill it with normal pressure atmosphere. Hopefully that should let whatever locking mechanisms the door has disengage. I just need everyone to come..." she paused to look down at the equipment, "within three meters of the door."

As Janeway and the others moved in closer, she continued working. "Ready?" she finally asked.

"As ready as we'll ever be," Harry Kim mumbled under his breath.

Twenty minutes of forcefield-contained atmosphere later, the situation had hardly changed.

"What's wrong with this thing?" B'Elanna exclaimed in frustration, holding up her tricorder. "The atmosphere's stabilized, and I'm reading power here... but it's not opening."

Harry coughed conspicuously. "You know, I'm no warp physicist, but maybe you have to push a button..."

Although her silvered helmet visor made it hard to see, the glare that B'Elanna shot back at Harry could have melted several tritanium armor plates. Without saying a word, she turned back to the door and studied the control panel for several seconds before pressing the largest button on the panel.

The blast door groaned open, revealing a pitch dark corridor beyond.

B'Elanna turned and pointed her finger at Harry ominously. "Not. A. Word."

As Harry tried (and failed) to suppress a snicker, Seven studied her tricorder. "The atmosphere inside is within normal levels. No traces of known chemical or biological toxins. I believe it will be safe for us to remove our suits now." She put the tricorder back on her belt and began to unclasp her helmet.

"Good," Torres remarked. "I hate wearing these things." She started by removing her gloves, then took off the helmet.

As Harry lifted his own helmet off, his nose wrinkled as the air hit his face. "It's pretty damn cold in here... stale, too. I wonder how long this ship's been drifting for?"

"Based on the carbon scoring near where we entered, this ship has been adrift for 36 years, plus or minus eleven months," Seven replied a moment later.

Harry looked back at her in surprise. "How'd you figure that one out so fast?"

She held up her tricorder. "It still has high concentrations of a highly radioactive carbon isotope with a half-life of only 60 years."

He shook his head and continued to work at the seals on his suit.

"Wait. How are we going to move if there's no gravity further ahead?" Ensign Munro asked. "We don't have magnetic boots..."

The away team members regarded each other in awkward silence. "Point," B'Elanna said as she zipped her suit back up and attached her helmet and gloves to hooks on her belt.

Tuvok chose that moment to conspicuously clear his throat. "Right. Everyone, check your phasers and turn the lights on. We don't know what might be up ahead."

Harry nodded and pulled out his compression rifle, double-checking the power pack before he switched the flashlight on. The blue-white beam of light cut through the darkness in the corridor, but it was apparently so long that he could still see nothing ahead except blackness. He grimaced briefly; the pitch dark was certainly a change from the eerie green glow of a Borg cube, but it was just as unnerving. It kind of reminded him of a number of Hollywood holodeck horror programs he'd run back on Earth. He didn't remember the exact name of one, but the aliens in it had really burned themselves into his memory. He laughed quietly. As bad as the Borg and Species 8472 were, they had nothing on humanity's own imagination. The part that really scared him was that as large as the galaxy was, there was also a pretty good chance that something like those freaks existed. He just hoped they wouldn't find them on this ship.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt something touch his shoulder.

"Whoa there," B'Elanna exclaimed as she pulled back. "You're jumpy all of a sudden."

"Sorry," Harry replied. "This whole situation just reminded me of a holodeck program I once used back on Earth."

"Which one?" she asked.

"I forgot the name of it... it was about this derelict ship and some aliens that ate everyone on board and then tried to eat you."

B'Elanna shuddered. "Yeah, I think I ran that one once. One of the damn things attached itself to my face. Gave me nightmares for a week."

"Everyone ready?" Tuvok asked, interrupting their conversation. "Let's move."

Quietly, the away team glided forward, the only noise in the corridor produced by the small nitrogen thrusters on their packs. The walls along the corridor remained just as unremarkable save for what appeared to be the occasional access door, giving Harry no reference for distance. By his rough count, they'd passed about three access doors when the corridor came to an abrupt end. Three curved doors covered the end of the walkway, and there were two normal doors on either side.

B'Elanna slid forward and tried the control panel, but the indicators remained dark. "Looks like the power's out. Seven, which way do we need to go?"

Seven lifted up her tricorder to check the display. "We are now approximately in the middle of the ship, on one of the upper decks. We need to go down twenty decks and then find a way through the pylons to the central core."

"Then this must be the turbolift shaft," B'Elanna guessed. "Crap. We're going to have to force the doors and float down the shaft." She slung her compression rifle over her shoulder before pulling a crowbar from her pack. She then jammed it into the gap at the left side of the door, but it wouldn't budge.

Harry pointed at the unfamiliar script printed on the right-hand side of the door. "You sure you have the right side?"

B'Elanna turned around to regard him coolly. "Now you're the expert? Here, you get it open."

He shrugged and moved forward to take the crowbar out, but instead of pulling it out, he pulled himself into the wall with a dull thud. Grimacing, he pushed himself back and braced his feet against the door, then tried to start working the crowbar back and forth. It refused to budge.

"What did you do to this thing?" he finally asked after several more minutes of trying different approaches. "It's completely stuck."

"Let me see." She braced herself and worked it out after only a couple tries, then handed the crowbar over to him. "There. That wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

Harry looked at her in silence for several seconds before wiping the sweat he'd worked up off his brow. "Yeah. Right," he said sarcastically, in between breaths. "You know, if this ship doesn't have artificial gravity, why isn't there anything to hold on to on the walls?"

"They could have gecko-like hands and feet," Munro said with a shrug. "Then they wouldn't need handholds."

"All right, you two. Stop wasting air and get that door open. You did volunteer, after all." B'Elanna snapped out.

"I'm not wasting air," Munro protested. "I'm sure the ship has recirculators."

"Did it ever occur to you that with the crew sleeping, they don't need much air and probably turned off the life support out here to save power?" the engineer replied. "Now why don't you give Harry a hand, I think he needs one."

"I'll be fine," Harry grunted. He'd finally managed to get the crowbar into the right side of the door, but it had only opened by a couple of centimeters. "These doors sure look a lot lighter than they really are..."

Despite Harry's protests, Munro and B'Elanna joined in and after several minutes of pushing, they succeeded in getting the door open wide enough to pass through. She then hammered a scrap of metal into the door track to prevent it from closing after them as a precaution.

The team spent the next few minutes navigating through the turbolift shaft. To their surprise, it actually connected to the framework that held the outer modules to the central core.

Their next challenge was the turbolift car parked at the end of the shaft. The car, fortunately, had an emergency exit in the ceiling that was easily pried open.

"There's some sort of mechanical socket here," B'Elanna remarked from the bottom of the car. She was floating upside-down relative to the car, inspecting the control area. "It could be an override key... Munro, could you pass me a screwdriver?"

When he gave her the screwdriver, she took it and began to fiddle with the mechanism. "It's no use," she said after a while. "It's got too many cylinders, and it looks like it has some sort of data socket inside. Hand me that crowbar again."

Harry passed the crowbar along to her, and they managed to get both the inner and outer doors opened relatively quickly.

Just like all the corridors so far, the lighting in this one was off.

Seven held her tricorder up and scanned the display. "The life signatures are now two decks below and one hundred meters forward, relative to our present position."

"All right," Janeway said, moving to the front of the group. "Let's keep moving. Hopefully we can help them."

As they started forward again, suddenly and without any warning gravity took hold, sending the entire away team unceremoniously crashing down to the deck.

"Ow!" Harry sat up and rubbed his head, where he had banged it into the deck plates. "Guess they do have artificial gravity after all."

"What's that noise?" Munro asked.

"What noise?" B'Elanna answered the question with a question as she came to her feet, noticing that the gravity was slightly stronger than the Earth standard that Starfleet used.

"That low pitched hum that just started a moment ago, after the gravity resumed."

She focused for a moment. "I hear it, but I don't have any idea. The gravity just came on, so it could be that life support is restarting."

Janeway's commbadge chose that moment to chime. "This is the captain," she answered a moment later.

"Captain, it's Chakotay. Did you find what you were looking for?"

"We're close," she replied, frowning slightly at the quesiton. "Why?"

"You didn't find the helm controls or anything?"

Her frown deepened as she tried to guess where he was going. "No, why do you ask?"

"The ship is beginning to rotate and we're picking up fusion byproducts and ions from the stern. I'd say it's preparing to perform a braking maneuver."

"Oh." She looked around at the away team for a moment before her face went ashen. "Chakotay, can you read any sort of inertial dampening on this ship?"

"Hang on." A moment later, the badge chimed again. "There's nothing that we're familiar with. I am seeing some gravity distortions, but there are no active subspace fields."

"Thanks," Janeway replied, taking her hand off the badge afterward. "Seven, which way is aft?"

She pointed at the wall behind them.

"OK. Everyone, press your backs against that wall. I hope this thing doesn't go over ten Gs, or we're all in trouble..."

Her badge chimed again. "Captain, the power readings are ramping up. We think it'll be ready to fire in about thirty seconds."

Barely fifteen seconds had passed when the familiar chiming noise came once more. "It's firing. Are you OK?"

Perplexed, Janeway took a step forward. "Thanks, Chakotay. We didn't feel a thing. Let us know if anything else happens."

"Of course, Captain," Chakotay answered. "We'll keep you informed."

"Interesting," Seven remarked as everyone looked at each other and shrugged. "They must use the same technology as their artificial gravity for their inertial dampeners."

B'Elanna took on a thoughtful look as they started walking down the corridor. "What do the Borg use?"

"Subspace, like the Federation."

She nodded. "I wonder how you'd use artificial gravity technology to counter inertia..." she said, more to herself than anyone else. "I suppose if you could produce a sort of localized pseudo-gravity field, you could create attraction in the opposite direction of acceleration... but then you'd have problems with sudden changes because you're always reacting... The deflector dish might be a good starting point, I could isolate and reverse the polarity, run the power level up, and focus it in instead of out... Have to evacuate engineering first, though, don't want to hurt anyone..."

"Should I be worried about her?" Munro asked Harry, jerking his thumb in B'Elanna's direction as she continued babbling technical jargon to herself while Seven listened. "She's not going to go start building some experimental contraption now, is she? I like to keep my internal organs safely inside me."

Harry shook his head. "Nah. Her eyes glaze over like that whenever she's thinking hard... it's an engineer thing. Start worrying when she asks for weird elements, parts, or tools you've never heard of."

As they kept walking, the corridor turned first right, then left, then sloped downward for a good few meters. Harry noticed that they had passed through several dividers that looked like open doorways, which was odd because they were almost the full width of the walkway.

Several more bends, turns, and one intersection later, he was surprised when the lights suddenly came on, leaving him and the rest of the away team blinking like owls. The next thing he heard was an odd rumbling noise. At the end of the hallway ahead an odd, metallic copper-colored wheel rolled in and stopped, suddenly unfolding arms and legs.

"Take cover!" Tuvok exclaimed when he realized a moment later that its odd arms, which lacked any kind of manipulators, each had two long tubes – and both were pointed straight at them. Harry was yanked aside as Munro dove for the cover of one of the bulkheads they had passed through. Moments later, there was a loud cracking sound and bright bursts of reddish light flashed past where they had been standing.

"We must have tripped the intruder defenses when we forced that last door open," B'Elanna said angrily. She took a look around the bulkhead and just as quickly jerked her head back as more fire whizzed past.

"It's protected by a forcefield," Tuvok observed after taking a shot at it, only to have it bounce off a scintillating blue bubble that appeared around the mobile turret. "Seven, can you get a reading on it when I fire?"

"It's too strong for phasers," she replied moments after he fired again. "A type 9 photon grenade might work."

"Which we don't have. We'll have to get out of here," Janeway answered, tapping her commbadge. "Janeway to the Bridge. Can you get a transporter lock on us?"

"Negative," Chakotay replied several moments later. "What's going on?"

"The ship's waking up," she answered. "Apparently we tripped some automated defenses and they've got us pinned down."

There was silence from the other end for a long moment. "We'll keep trying to get a lock," Chakotay finally said. "Can you get back to where you came in?"

Janeway looked over at Tuvok. "What do you think?"

The Vulcan shook his head. "Our suits' thrusters are not strong enough to counteract the gravity on this ship. We also will not be able to climb the turbolift shaft as there are no ladders built into the shafts."

There was a clanking sound and Harry glanced around the corner briefly. "It's walking towards us," he said.

"Seven-what about other exits? Are there any escape pods?" Janeway asked.

Seven hurriedly tapped at her tricorder. "Unknown, Captain. However, the other direction at the intersection we passed may lead back to the surface of this part of the ship."

Janeway nodded. "Then let's go that way. Seven, you lead. Tuvok, keep an eye on our backs. Move!"

They quickly got up and began running along the walls of the corridor. Harry, Alex, and the other ensigns all kept looking over their shoulders and firing at the unrelenting turret. As they came to another bulkhead, they all dove behind it again and paused to catch their breath.

Harry looked around at everyone. Somehow, when Alex had pulled him out of the way, they had wound up on one side with the other three ensigns while the Captain, Tuvok, and Seven were on the other side of the corridor. He suddenly realized that they were going to have to jump across the corridor somehow because the bend ahead was on the other side.

"I wish we could have taken these suits off," B'Elanna lamented. "It's nearly impossible to run in these things!"

"At least the suit provides some protection," one of the ensigns next to Harry remarked. Harry winced; that usually wasn't the kind of remark one wanted to make in this sort of situation.

"Go for the next bulkhead!" Tuvok ordered, and the team sprinted down the corridor again. Harry began running backwards, spraying the turret with automatic fire from his compression rifle for all it was worth, and watching nervously as the crimson shots continued to lance through the hallway. There was an explosion and a choked scream next to him, and Harry felt several stinging sensations as his side and face was hit with shrapnel. He glanced sideways at the ensign-Allen, he thought-and saw him crash to the deck in a steaming heap, his suit's propellant pack replaced with a boiling cold white crater. So that's where the shrapnel had come from; apparently the shot had hit the liquid nitrogen tank inside the pack, causing it to explode. Probably froze the poor guy's chest instantly...

"Keep going!" Tuvok shouted. "When we pass the next bulkhead, go right!"

They dove through the next bulkhead a moment later, and Harry again glanced back as he caught his breath. The turret had stopped firing for a moment, and was retracting into a wheel again. He quickly aimed and fired at it. The blast struck the copper-colored metal instead of being deflected, but didn't even leave a mark on the apparent armor.

"That thing's got some serious armor on it, whatever it is," he remarked as he ducked back behind the bulkhead. "My rifle didn't even scratch it."

"Hey, there's a control panel here," B'Elanna exclaimed a moment later. She quickly began jabbing at the controls on it to no effect.

Harry looked around the corner again. The turret was fast; it had already covered half the distance to them in that short amount of time. "Forget trying to figure it out – just shoot the panel!"

Nodding, B'Elanna picked her rifle back up, took a few steps back, and fired. The panel exploded in a shower of sparks, and with a loud whirring noise a heavy blast door began sliding out of the bulkhead. Several seconds later, they were sealed off from the turret, although they could hear it clanking at the other side of the door. Harry sagged against the wall in relief.

"Let's take off our suits," Janeway said after she had caught her breath. "These damned things nearly got all of us killed back there. Speaking of which, did we lose someone?"

"Ensign Allen, Captain," Harry replied.

"Is he alive?"

Harry shook his head sadly. "He took a shot to his thruster pack. I think the liquid nitrogen froze his chest instantly. Couldn't have done him any good..."

Janeway was silent for a moment. "There probably wasn't much you could have done about it, Harry."

"I know."

After a moment of silence for the crewman, they continued on along the other corridor, stopping after several minutes when Seven held up her hand.

"There's a shaft on the other side of this door. It should lead directly to where the crew of this ship is."

"Do we want to go there?" one of the other ensigns asked. "There could be more of those turret things."

"Well, we left our suits behind, so our only other choice is to find out where the escape pods are... and it doesn't look like there are any on this ship," Harry found himself saying.

Janeway opened her mouth to say something but then they all heard that ominous rolling sound.

"Oh, come on!" B'Elanna exclaimed. "How the heck did that thing get through the blast door? It must have been a half meter thick!"

"Well, that settles it," Janeway said. "Down the shaft."

"We're going to have to force this door as well," B'Elanna said. "There's no panel, just a lock like the one in the turbolift."

They all looked at each other. The rolling noise was getting steadily louder, and they expected it to pop around the corner any minute. B'Elanna slammed the crowbar into the crack of the door, and they all yanked on it as hard as they could. Apparently this door was built lighter than the turbolift doors, because it actually popped off its track and bent outward, allowing them to pry it further up and duck inside.

By the time the turret arrived, Harry was the last one standing in the corridor. As the machine began to unfold itself, he threw himself toward the open door, somehow catching a ladder rung inside. He hauled himself down as fast as his arms could move, and just hoped that the infernal machine couldn't use ladders.

"Harry," B'Elanna called from far below him, "you just have to see this."

The shaft opened out on a vast room, which stretched out over a hundred meters in any direction that Harry could see. Across the floor, neatly arranged like pillars, were thousands of two and a half meter tall black slabs.

"This is really weird," Munro remarked. "It's almost like a graveyard."

"Except they're in hibernation," Harry reminded him. He walked forward and started circling one of the slabs. On one side, a humanoid body protruded slightly in the strange black material, its facial expression appearing neutral. "What is this stuff?"

"It's carbonite," Seven answered, standing in front of another slab. "One species the Borg encountered used it to preserve food as part of a cryogenic process. We regarded it as a useless curiosity-I never would have guessed it could also be used to preserve living beings."

"So when are the crew going to wake up?" Munro asked.

B'Elanna turned around and shrugged. "No idea. It's probably on a timer, and since the ship seems to be powering itself back up..." She trailed off as a high-pitched, warbling noise unlike anything they had ever heard began coming from the slab Seven was standing in front of.

"What happened?" she asked Seven. The entire figure, encased in the carbonite, was beginning to give off a reddish glow.

"The controls were simple," Seven explained. "The carbonite casing is dissolving right now, which will wake the person inside from hibernation."

"Okay..." B'Elanna took a few steps back as the glow grew brighter. Pinholes of bright white light formed all over, increasing in size and coming together to form larger areas. She realized a moment later that the white was actually caused by the dissolving carbonite, as skin color could now be seen through the holes in the rapidly disappearing carbonite.

Several seconds later, the carbonite casing had completely dissolved, leaving the man unsupported. As he began to fall forward, groaning slightly, B'Elanna jumped toward him and grabbed one arm as Seven grabbed the other.

Now that he was free of the carbonite, B'Elanna had the chance to take a good look at him. Oddly enough, he looked completely human-sandy blond hair of medium length, average build, no distinctive bone formations that might identify him as one of the many humanoid races of the galaxy, and even his eyes looked perfectly normal with round pupils and grayish-blue irises.

She realized a moment later that he was staring at her with probably a pretty good mirror image of the curious look she had. Oh well. Might as well introduce herself.

"Hello... I'm B'Elanna Torres, from the Federation starship _Voyager_."

The man blinked several times as if confused, and coughed. Then he said some gibberish that was completely unintelligible even to her universal translator.

"Uh... Seven? Did you pick up any of that?"

Seven shook her head. "It doesn't sound like any of the languages the Borg encountered."

B'Elanna turned back to the strange man. "Where are you from?" she asked.

The man coughed again. "Corellia."

Her eyebrows went up dramatically. Maybe Corellia was the name of the system that the ship had come from. "You can understand me?"

He nodded.

"What is your name?"

"Dellen Coureran," he answered, his vowels oddly accented.

B'Elanna nodded. Now they were getting somewhere. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Coureran." She paused. "We were stranded in this part of the galaxy and were trying to get home when we found your ship drifting."

The man just nodded. "Me... see," he said, sounding unsure of what he was saying.

"I see," B'Elanna corrected him.

He smiled briefly before pointing forward. "I see. Go..."

"Go?" she asked. "That way?"

When he nodded, she looked over at Seven and the rest of the away team, wondering why he wanted that. "Let's walk over there."

As it turned out, the side of the room that he wanted to walk to held what B'Elanna could only assume was a computer terminal. They helped him get into the seat in front of the terminal, and he blinked and peered at the screen, tapping commands into it. She studied the screen but couldn't make any sense of the alien glyphs, which looked slightly like a blockier version of Klingon writing.

Several minutes later, she heard mechanical whirring and clicking noises and spun around, expecting to see another one of the deadly turrets. What greeted her instead was a chrome-plated, stylized humanoid figure walking stiffly forward. In its face were a pair of wide, glowing eyes and a small square opening for a mouth, giving it an eternally surprised look. Whatever it was, it definitely didn't look threatening – but then again, things that looked harmless were often the most dangerous...

"Dellen?" she asked, unsure what was going on.

He turned around to see, and apparently recognizing the chrome figure, began speaking rapidly to it. It responded in the same odd language, and Dellen turned back to face her.

"Talk," he said.

"About what?" She honestly had no idea what he was getting at.

He shrugged. "Learn. Talk."

She looked back at the shiny figure. "Translator?"

"Trans-la-tor," he said slowly, the word coming out with the same accent. "Learn. Talk."

She looked over at Seven. "That machine's a translator," she said, finally realizing. "We should talk to each other so it can begin to understand us."

"What do you want to talk about?" Seven asked.

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "How should I know? Stuff we'd talk about to a child, I guess. I'll start. Seven, how was your day?"

"My day went well," Seven replied. "Until the robot turret tried to kill me."

"Same here," B'Elanna muttered. "I don't know what else to talk about. I'm not exactly a schoolteacher..." Her face brightened and she turned to Dellen. "I have an idea. Is your translator capable of teaching your language?"

He nodded. "You want... translator... teach you?"

"Yes," she replied, tapping the side of her head. "We have Univeral Translators implanted that are capable of learning new languages."

Dellen turned toward the translator and gave it some rapid instructions. It shuffled forward and stiffly extended an arm. "I am E-4PO," and the next few words came out unintelligible. "I will teach you translator."

Seven and B'Elanna looked at each other. "I think this is going to take a while," B'Elanna remarked.


	4. Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

Pitch darkness.

He felt himself falling forward in the inky blackness, only to have his arms caught by someone. Blinking, he tried to gather some more information about his surroundings. He could hear someone babbling next to him in a language that he didn't understand a word of. Other than that, the surrounding area was eerily quiet.

That's strange, he thought. If the ship was waking up, he should be hearing the buzz of activity as the droids went through and awakened the other passengers. Yet there was nothing of the sort.

He focused on the two people standing next to him, reaching out to try and understand what they were saying.

_I'm B'Elanna Torres, from the Federation Starship Voyager_, one of them said. The language appeared to be fairly simple, although its vowels were oddly shifted from what he was used to in Basic. The grammar also appeared to be slightly backwards when he considered how the words he heard compared to the actual meaning he'd picked up.

He tried to speak in reply, to introduce himself, but nothing came out. His throat felt as if someone had poured sand down it while he had been asleep, and he involuntarily coughed.

"What Federation?" he asked, trying to clear the darkness from his eyes. The women standing next to him appeared be confused by his reply and babbled to each other.

_Seven, did you pick up any of that_? The first one asked.

_It doesn't sound like any of the languages the Borg encountered_, the other one – he guessed she was Seven – replied. Kind of an odd name for a person. As he continued to try to get his eyes to function, B'Elanna spoke again.

_Where are you from_? She asked.

It was a pretty simple question, all said. "Corellia," he answered, and from the confusion he again sensed he guessed that they didn't know where it was.

_You can understand me?_

He started to speak but realized he didn't know their word for _yes_ yet, and nodded instead.

_What is your name?_

Easy enough question. "Jedi Master Dellen Coureran, at your service," he managed to get out in between coughs.

_Pleased to meet you, Mr. Coureran,_ she replied in that strange language. _We were stranded in this part of the galaxy and were trying to get home when we found your ship drifting._

He tried to form a reply in their own language, guessing which words were what. Evidently it didn't quite come out right.

_I see_, she corrected him immediately.

"I see," he repeated with a smile, trying to figure out what to do next. As he'd been working at his eyes, he had managed to go from seeing only blackness to seeing blinding white light. No shapes were forthcoming yet. He reached out to sense where he was, and realized that he really could use one of those blasted 4PO units. Where were they when you needed them, anyway?

He reached out and tried to guess the word he needed from the women. "Go," he experimented, pointing in the direction he guessed was the nearest terminal.

"Go?" she asked, apparently confused by the request. _That way?_

He nodded in assent. At least they were getting somewhere. The two women began walking forward, and he tried to convince his legs to move but was somewhat unprepared for how stiff they were. Well, he had been frozen in that block for... well, if they were in the system already it would have had to been around seventy years to account for the acceleration, travel, and deceleration. Then again, with the relative effects of time at the near-light speeds they had tried to hit, it probably would have only seemed like twenty on board the ship...

By the time they had reached the terminal, he was able to see rough, slightly blurry shapes. The two women helped him sit down, and he peered at the screen, trying to make out the Aurebesh lettering it showed. Several false starts later, he had managed to access the ship's droid control subsystem, requesting a protocol droid be sent to their location.

While they waited, he continued to search through the system and noticed that the ship had responded to a perimeter security breach of the storage core only a few minutes before. It had sent two droidekas in response. Intrigued, Dellen checked the current status. Both droids were still active, only two levels above them.

He leaned back and considered the situation. He still had his lightsaber at his belt, but in his present state, with his muscles still not reacting correctly, he would be vulnerable if the visitors decided to become aggressive. The decision made, he leaned closer to the terminal and entered new commands to send the two droids to the main storage area and await his commands.

He didn't have to wait long for the protocol droid, which shuffled forward, its head tilted slightly to one side.

"How may I be of service, Master Coureran?" the droid asked.

"I need you to start learning their language," he instructed it.

"Of course, Master."

Dellen turned around to face group. "I need you to talk," he asked, in a mixture of Basic and the words he'd picked up from the visitors.

_About what?_ She replied.

He shrugged, trying to figure out the correct reply. "The droid will learn what you say. I just need you to talk."

_Translator_? She asked. Apparently his last reply wasn't as clear as he had hoped.

"Translator," he said slowly, imitating her voice. "Yes. It learns when you talk."

She and the other woman spoke briefly for a short time, but it was immediately clear to Dellen that both were very technical and didn't feel comfortable trying to teach their language.

_Is your translator capable of teaching your language?_ The first one, B'Elanna, asked.

"You want the translator to teach you?" he asked, slightly confused. They hadn't shown any signs of understanding the Basic he was speaking, and only appeared to be picking up the word or two of their language that he was repeating.

_Yes._ She tapped the side of her head. _We have Universal Translators implanted that are capable of learning languages._

Dellen turned back to the protocol droid and told it to begin one of its instructional programs. It shuffled forward, extended an arm, and greeted the visitors.

Several hours later, when the droid had finished its beginner teaching program, Dellen stood up and walked over to where the group was seated in front of the droid.

"How well can you understand me now?" he asked.

"Perfectly," one of the women said as she came to her feet. "I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager, and these are members of my crew."

He extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Jedi Master Dellen Coureran, official historian of the Outbound Flight."

She took his hand and shook it. "Likewise. Now, we do have some questions. Where are you from?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing myself," he replied. "I'm from Corellia. The rest of our crew and colonists were picked from systems all over the galaxy."

"All over..." She paused. "This galaxy?"

Dellen drew his head back. "This galaxy? No... our galaxy is pretty far away from here."

"How long did it take to get all of the crew, if they came from all over the galaxy?" Torres asked.

"About a week," Dellen replied. The mouths of most of Voyager's crew hung agape now, and he decided to try breaking the ice a bit. "Well, going by the looks on your faces, I take it that would be pretty unheard-of here."

"Um..." Torres' wrinkled forehead was even more scrunched up in thought. "How big is your galaxy, anyway?"

"Well, from what we could see... about ten percent larger than this one," Dellen replied.

"Amazing," Munro half whispered.

"We've..." Janeway's voice trailed off, and she was obviously trying to think of how to word it. "We've been trapped in this part of the galaxy for close to five years, trying to get home. Our best estimates give us another fifty or sixty years to go."

This time it was Dellen's turn to be speechless. Somewhere in the seventy or so thousand years between the first sleeper ships and the invention of the modern hyperdrive, there had been a number of attempts to break the lightspeed barrier. All those different methods had been quickly replaced with the advent of the modern hyperdrive. "I'm... sorry to hear that," he replied. "You know what, we might actually be able to help you. I'll just have to wake up the commander so we can discuss it." He pointed to the terminal, which Seven was currently seated in front of. "Do you mind?"

"No," Seven said as she came to her feet.

Dellen took the seat, swiveling around to face the terminal, and started working away at it. A short time later, he stood back up. "The medical and security staff will be awakened first, so you'll have to wait for the commander. There's a room not too far from here where you can sit and rest for a bit while we get everything ready."

"Of course," Janeway replied.

He waved an open hand toward an exit. "If you would follow me?"

After leaving the visitors in one of the storage rooms, Dellen walked back to the main storage room, where the crew were slowly beginning to wake up. He mentally counted the aisles of carbon-freeze units and turned down one, passing several dozen units before stopping at one he recognized the markings of. After activating the controls and waiting for the carbonite to evaporate, he helped the gray-haired man down.

"Master Dellen," the gray-haired man addressed him, although his eyes were still unfocused and staring off into space behind him as a side effect of the hibernation sickness. "Bypassing protocols again, I see. Is there some sort of emergency?"

"Well, not exactly, Master C'baoth," Dellen replied. "We're within the destination system already. However, some local spacefarers stumbled across us and accidentally set off the security systems."

"Are they hostile?"

"No... well, this is going to sound very strange, but they're... ah... human."

C'baoth's eyebrows moved up about half a centimeter. "Indeed?"

"Yes. They're from a government they call the Federation, located on the other side of this galaxy. They've been trapped here for the past five years trying to get back. I was thinking that we might be able to help them."

The gray eyebrows went back down as a frown crept across C'baoth's face. "They don't know about hyperspace."

"I didn't ask, but I would assume that's the reason."

"I see." C'baoth went quiet for a moment. "So we have a contact scenario on our hands. Have you begun the startup procedures?"

"Yes," Dellen replied. "The ship was already in standby when they woke me up. I immediately had the droids start bringing the rest of the crew out of hibernation."

"And where are our visitors?"

"In one of the storage lockers nearby. Master C'baoth, do you want to meet them now or should we wait for the other Masters?"

C'baoth blinked several times, obviously trying to clear his vision. "No sense in wasting time," he replied after a moment had passed. "If the other Masters wish to join, they will know where to find us."

.

.

.

Janeway was mildly surprised when Dellen returned with another human. It was immediately obvious that he was older than Dellen, with a full head of gray hair that he wore in a loose ponytail and a fairly short beard of the same color that adorned his sharp chin. Like Dellen, he was wearing a simple, rough brown robe tied at the waist. The overall effect was similar to that of the Tibetan monks back on Earth, although they tended to wear brightly colored robes. The other major difference was that while the Tibetan monks never carried anything with them, a silver cylinder about twenty centimeters long hung from the new man's belt.

Dellen stepped forward. "Members of _Voyager_, may I introduce you to the administrator of the Outbound Flight Project, Master Jorus C'baoth. Master C'baoth, these are the visitors I was telling you about."

At the introduction, she came to her feet, stretching out her hand in greeting. "On behalf of my crew, I would like to thank you for your hospitality," she began. "My name is Kathryn Janeway, captain of the Federation starship _Voyager_, and these are the members of my away team."

The introductions briefly went around, with many handshakes to accompany them. After they had finished, Janeway looked straight at Master C'baoth. "I apologize for the sudden request, but we lost a member of our team to your ship's defenses. I would like to know if we could take his body back for a proper funeral as soon as possible."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," C'baoth replied. "Just let us know where it happened, and we'll have the maintenance droids bring the body here."

He had barely finished speaking when Seven replied. "Ensign Allen died two decks above us, approximately fifty meters aft of the access shaft we entered through."

C'baoth turned to face the younger Master. "Dellen, go take care of that if you would, and meet us in the main conference room on D-One."

"Of course," Dellen replied, turning away immediately.

"Now, if you could follow me?" C'baoth asked, but Janeway got the feeling that the question was more of a demand than a simple question.

As it turned out, the conference room was far larger than what Janeway had expected. The solid table at its center, inlaid with intricate designs carved of a very dark colored wood, could have easily seated well over twenty people. The walls of the room were covered with tapestries, which Seven quickly discovered were actually holographic displays.

Shortly after they had all sat down, a humanoid (at the top, at least; the legs tapered into a sphere) robot rolled in and asked in a carefully metered, feminine voice if they wanted anything. Not knowing what their hosts ate or drank, they all asked for water. The robot smoothly rolled out of sight and then re-appeared minutes later with a metal pitcher covered in condensation and enough glasses for everyone.

As they settled in, C'baoth turned to face Janeway. "What's your story?"

Brief and to the point, Janeway thought to herself. He certainly didn't waste any time. She mentally shrugged and decided to go along with it.

"Five years ago, we were sent to investigate the disappearance of a ship in a dangerous area of space, about 70,000 light-years from here. When we got there, we were hit with a strange wave of energy that transported us to this quadrant. Our ship was heavily damaged, and many of our crew died.

"Well, after that, we found the ship we had been looking for. They were in worse condition than we were, and the survivors became part of our crew. We've had a few additions along the way – our ship's cook, Neelix, was a local scavenger who we ran across. And, of course, Seven of Nine here is a former Borg drone.

"But it hasn't all been bad. A parting gift from one of the crew we picked up moved us ten thousand light-years closer. Which leaves us, right now, about fifty years away from home."

C'baoth leaned forward slightly, his hand resting on an open palm as if in thought. "Dellen did mention that to me. As it so happens, I think we might be able to take you in tow back to your home."

Janeway frowned. "But... aren't your drive systems disabled? I mean, why have you been cruising at impulse for the last thirty years?"

"Well, I was going to explain that later, but since you asked...

At that moment, the door to the conference room hissed open and Dellen entered, accompanied by a brown-haired woman of medium build and a tall, balding, middle-aged man.

"Ah, you made it," C'baoth said without missing a beat. "Captain Janeway, may I introduce Jedi Master Justyn Ma'Ning and Jedi Knight Lorana Jinzler. Master Ma'Ning is in charge of Jedi operations on D-Four, and Jedi Jinzler is my former Padawan."

"Pleased to meet you," Janeway said as she came to her feet.

"Excuse me," a voice piped up next to her, and she glanced over to see Seven looking intently at C'baoth. "Are you all Jedi?"

Master Ma'Ning broke the sudden silence with a deep laugh. "No, of course not. There are about ten thousand colonists on this mission, along with another thousand Republic Navy crewmen to run the Dreadnaughts."

"What are the Jedi?"

Ma'Ning glanced over at C'baoth briefly before answering. "We are the guardians of the Republic. For over a thousand generations we have stood between the Republic and all its threats, both from within and without."

"So you're police?" Munro asked.

"Not exactly," Ma'Ning replied. "We act as peacekeepers when it is necessary. That is but one of the many tasks the Force calls on us to perform."

"The Force?" Janeway asked, now genuinely curious.

"The energy that binds the universe together," C'baoth answered. "We, the Jedi, have been granted the power of the Force. It responds to each of us differently. For some, it grants visions of past, present and possible futures. For others," he waved his hand and the pitcher of water on the table floated up and began to fill all the glasses, "it grants control over matter and energy. These are but a few of the many gifts offered by the Force. In return, as Master Ma'Ning so eloquently put it, we must follow the will of the Force.

"Now, back to the original subject, I believe you were interested in how we got here. Is that correct?"

Janeway simply nodded.

"Sixty years ago, our mission launched from the Yaga Minor shipyards. To test the ship, we set out through the uncharted areas of the galactic halo. At our last navigational stop, we were attacked by an unknown force that damaged many of our systems. Master Fernas, our navigator, then made an uncharted jump that from the best of our knowledge, took us through either a black hole, wormhole, or some strange sort of hyperspace disturbance.

"And that is how we arrived here. We discovered that our fuel tanks had been breached, so after making repairs we used the food-preservation equipment aboard the ship to enter hibernation while we generated more fuel. We were going to begin our search for life once we reached the system, but obviously you discovered us first."

"So..." Janeway considered the implications. "You're explorers, from another galaxy?"

"I suppose you could put it that way," C'baoth replied. "I personally prefer to think of us as pioneers. You see, when the hyperdrive was first invented, many people, including more than a few Jedi, set out in search of new worlds. After several thousand years, most of the galaxy had been mapped out. The Republic, founded during that time, turned its focus in toward itself and has not looked out beyond its borders since. The people of our galaxy have grown complacent; they no longer view the universe with wonder. To them, planets, star systems, those are just a place to live and fight over.

"But to us, the universe is a place of limitless potential. Who knows what wonders lie among the stars? The power of the Force is as vast as space itself. I feel that there is no greater sign of that than the fact that you sit here before us, nearly eighty million light-years away from our home."

Janeway nodded. "I suppose, then, it might come as no surprise to you that part of the mission of Starfleet is to boldly go where no one has gone before." She felt a twinge of pride resonate as she repeated the words Cochrane had uttered over two hundred years before.

"A worthy sentiment," C'baoth agreed.

"Well, this has been a wonderful history lesson," Janeway replied, "but I think we need to get to business. You mentioned taking us in tow. How would that be possible, and how long will it take?"

"It would first depend on your ship," C'baoth answered. "I'm not sure what we would have to do to prepare it for hyperspace travel. Are you at all familiar with hyperspace?"

Janeway shook her head. "If by hyperspace, you mean a higher domain of subspace, then we have a number of theories on the subject but I was unaware that it was possible to exploit the domain for travel."

"Minor details, I'm sure," C'baoth replied. "Our engineers can work on the implementation with your engineers. Now, do you have up to date starmaps?"

The captain looked over at Tuvok with some concern. "Is that necessary?"

C'baoth nodded. "In order to navigate hyperspace, the jumps must be plotted first. If we have bad astronomical data, then there's a chance of flying into a star's mass shadow or even something as small as an asteroid, which could have very bad – and unpredictable – effects. Thousands of starships are lost each year from such navigational errors."

"But you said that you flew through a black hole to get here?" Janeway asked.

"With the Force guiding us," C'baoth replied. "That is not a feat I would want anyone else to try."

"I see," she replied, letting her shoulders drop with a sigh. "Well, I suppose there's no harm in letting you see the star charts we have. After all, we would be in this together. Now, as far as our government goes, what are your intentions when we arrive?"

"Per our charter, we would open diplomatic contact with your Federation. Our goal would be friendly, mutual understanding between your government and ours. To that end, we would like to set up a world as a Republic colony in peaceful coexistence."

"A laudable goal," Janeway agreed. "So, is there anything else we need to do before we start working with you?"

C'baoth leaned forward, pulling out a datapad and a stack of flimsiplast sheets. "For the sake of both of our crews, I would like to work out a contract with you that will limit the responsibilities that each of us carries. Most of this would be quite standard and basic, so that if any differences arise once we've embarked on this project, we can settle those disputes without any heated arguments. Is this agreeable to you?"

"Of course," Janeway replied. "While you're working on that, if it's all right with you, we would like to hold a funeral for Ensign Allen back on Voyager. Please feel free to contact us when you're ready."

C'baoth set the datapad down and looked up as Janeway came to her feet. "I don't believe we ever discussed how to communicate with your ship," he remarked.

"Oh. Of course," Janeway replied, barely missing a beat. "Torres, would you give them a list of our standard hailing frequencies?"

Torres nodded in acknowledgement, pulling out her datapad and tapping away.

"One last question," C'baoth said as he came to his feet. "I believe you entered through D-Three. Do you have a shuttle waiting? If so, I can make arrangements for them to dock in this ship's hangar."

Janeway paused for a minute as she considered it. "We used matter transporters to beam over, but we entered through D-Three, as you call it, because we found that the transporters don't function through your hull materials. We'll need to go somewhere that won't block the transporters."

The Jedi Master considered the request. "I think the hangar bay should work in that case as well," he declared, turning to face the other Jedi. "Jedi Jinzler, would you mind escorting our guests to the hangar bay?"

"Of course, Master," she replied deferentially, turning to face Janeway. "Follow me, please."

As they followed the young Jedi out of the room, Janeway increased her pace to match until she was walking alongside Lorana.

"So..." she began, not quite knowing how to put it. "How did you wind up on this mission?"

"I was Master C'baoth's apprentice," Lorana answered. "The Council granted me the rank of Jedi Knight three weeks before the mission, after which they assigned me here."

"That sounds ... sudden."

Lorana shrugged. "It came as a bit of a surprise. I'm only 22. Most Padawans have to wait until they're around 25 before they become full Jedi. It all depends on your skill, of course."

"Skill?"

"Your strength in the various disciplines of the Jedi. There's no single standard for Jedi, since we fill so many different roles."

"And what's yours?" Janeway asked.

Lorana gave another noncommittal shrug. "To be completely honest, I'm not really sure. I guess I'm pretty good at mediating, because for the last couple of weeks... well, I mean the last couple of weeks before we went into hibernation, anyway, I've been working with the crew and colonists whenever they had arguments."

"Are there are lot?" Janeway asked as they rounded another corner and walked up to another blast door. Next to the control panel for the blast door was some of the strange lettering that Dellen had earlier explained was called Aurebesh.

She leaned over and tapped the control panel. "Arguments? Not too many, but there were a few disagreements with several of the families. Master C'baoth wanted to begin training a number of the children but the parents didn't want them to be taken away. We eventually agreed to begin the training without separating anyone."

"Ah." The blast doors hissed open to reveal the hangar bay, which held two oddly shaped craft that Janeway assumed to be shuttles, plus a number of shuttlecraft-sized blocks that she guessed were cargo containers. "Well, I think we'll be fine from here."

Lorana looked around the hangar. "But there's no shuttle."

"We don't need one," Janeway replied. "You'll see. Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for your hospitality."

"You're quite welcome," Lorana replied.

Janeway reached up and tapped her commbadge. "Janeway to the Bridge. We're ready for beam-out."

Moments later, the entire away team vanished with a strange sparkling effect. Lorana blinked several times in surprise before heading back into the ship.

.

.

.

Several hours later, Janeway and Tuvok were back in the conference room on D-One.

"I hope the contract is to your satisfaction." C'baoth pushed two datapads across the table, which the two Starfleet officers picked up and began reading. To Janeway, the contract looked like a fairly standard waiver of liability. She paged through it and didn't see anything that looked immediately objectionable, then set it down.

Tuvok, meanwhile, was taking his time reading it, and after several minutes held out the datapad for Janeway. "Captain, did you read this section?"

Janeway picked up the datapad and her face went ashen. She dropped the pad to the desk and leaned across the table toward C'baoth. "Just who do you think you are, to have the nerve to ask for blood samples of my crew?"

C'baoth blinked. "I assure you, I meant no offense by the request." He paused. "You see, there are several markers that can determine if a person is potentially Force-sensitive. We would simply like to find out if those markers exist in this galaxy."

Janeway shook her head. "I will not have my crew used as guinea pigs. We would not even _consider_ making such a request of you, although we have had our own questions about how humans ended up in another galaxy so far from our own."

The Jedi Master put his hands up. "You have my most sincere apology for this confusion. If that is your concern, we can always make sure that each crewmember consents to the procedure."

"No, I think that _you're_ not understanding _me_," Janeway replied. "We will not stand for this invasion of our rights. I understand that you are offering to tow us home, which I much appreciate, but if that ride comes at the cost of our genetic rights, then my answer is no."

"We-" C'baoth started to reply but Janeway cut him off.

"_We_ will just have to find our own way home," she replied, pushing the chair back and coming to her feet. "Lieutenant Commander Tuvok, if you don't mind, I believe it's time to return to _Voyager_."

. . .

"Um... Captain?" Chakotay had confusion clearly evident on his face as Janeway stormed out of the turbolift with Tuvok following close on her heels. "How did the negotiations go?"

"Not as well as I would have liked," Janeway vaguely responded as she turned to the helm. "Lieutenant Paris, we will continue on our original course, Warp Seven."

"Captain?" he questioned.

"Do it."

"Uh... yes, Captain," the Lieutenant replied with some hesitation. "Warp Seven."

"Captain," Chakotay began, "may I ask what happened?"

Janeway took a last look at the massive ship as Voyager accelerated to warp, cutting off the viewscreen image. "Meet me in the ready room in thirty."

As she stepped into her ready room, Janeway was beginning to realize how exhausted she was from the away mission. Between running from the security droids of the Republic ship and negotiating with C'baoth, she realized they had spent close to ten hours on the ship.

Absentmindedly, she tapped the small control panel next to the door. It quietly slid open, and beyond it the room's lights activated.

"Coffee," Janeway ordered the room's small replicator, placing her mug into the opening. "Black. Hot." Within moments, the mug was filled with the steaming beverage and she took it, sitting down in a chair across the room.

"Computer, give me all the data there is on the Outbound Flight vessel."

Several monitors came to life, showing various diagrams and text data screens. She disinterestedly looked them over, pausing several times to change screens.

For nearly half an hour, the room remained quiet save for Janeway drumming her fingers against the chair rest. Then, the door softly chimed, startling the Captain out of her seat. "Come in," she finally acknowledged after glancing around the ready room.

The door promptly slid aside, revealing the mysterious visitor. "Hello, Commander," Janeway announced. "Have a seat."

"I'd prefer to stand," Chakotay replied, taking a close look at one of the monitors in front of the Captain. "What is this?" he asked in a subdued voice after several moments had passed.

Janeway heaved a sigh, looking at him with bloodshot eyes. "I've been analyzing the data we gathered on that ship," she responded. "It doesn't make any sense. Humans from a galaxy millions of light-years away? Blood tests for psychic powers? Fully sapient androids that seem to be no more than servants? Chakotay, I don't know what to make of this! What are we getting ourselves into?"

"Nothing, apparently," the first officer replied. "We're travelling away at warp seven per your orders, if you recall." He paused for a moment. "What do you mean, blood tests?"

Janeway put her head into her hands, her elbows resting on the table. "Their leader, a certain Master C'baoth, wanted us to sign a contract to limit liability in case anything went wrong. I looked over it quickly and didn't see anything obviously wrong, but Tuvok noticed a clause requiring that we submit blood samples for testing. So I called him on it."

"Well, I'm sure he would have been open to negotiating that," Chakotay remarked. "That's a pretty minor request."

Janeway tilted her head to the side. "Perhaps, but we don't even really know anything about these people!"

"And you don't think it's worth trying to learn about them, to understand them?"

"Like we tried to understand and trust Arturis, just a few weeks ago?" Janeway retorted. "Look where that got us."

"It got us light-years closer to home, and Seven's been working on slipstream theory since that incident. I'd say that's a positive."

"Commander-"

He cut her off. "Captain, after five years in this dump of a quadrant, I have just about had it with your decisions. You have put both yourself and the crew in danger on more than one occasion. And yes, there have been times when I was tempted to relieve you of your command, regardless of what might happen when we reach Earth."

"It-"

Chakotay was not done yet. "The Caretaker offered to let us back through his array. He even had a self-destruct device in place. Yet you felt sorry for the poor Ocampa, so we blew it up and saved their day."

"The self destruct was damaged, if you recall," Janeway retorted.

"It wasn't damaged until well after we got there!" Chakotay shot back. "Anyway, after that fiasco, we could have just run for the Gamma Quadrant wormhole which was less than ten years away, instead of seventy."

"We would have been traveling through Dominion space. Besides, as I heard a few days before we left, Captain Sisko mined the other end."

"Fine." Chakotay shrugged. "Maybe he did. And maybe we could have used the fake _Dauntless_ to get home... Oh! Right! We couldn't, because our phasers were set on stun the whole damned time. And then there was Omega, which after Seven stabilized it could have given us all the power we needed to get home. So many maybes, Captain. So many could-haves that you nixed."

"I did that for the safety of my crew, Commander," Janeway replied. "You saw what happened when the Omega in that lab destabilized."

"That's what development is for, Captain," the Commander retorted.

"I did not want to put the lives of my crew in jeopardy."

"That is not the point, Captain. The commander of this Republic ship offered to take us home. I'm sure we could have gotten him to drop that blood test thing, if we had actually _taken the time to talk_!"

"Commander!" Janeway firmly shouted. "That will be enough. We will not negotiate with them."

"Captain," Chakotay quietly began, "we have been in this quadrant for five years now. Five years! Crew morale is dropping, the ship is falling apart, and you keep turning down opportunities to get home, left and right. I don't know how we're supposed to last for the other fifty odd years it'll take... we'll probably be dead before we get home! Captain, I'll be damned if I can't get this crew home faster myself."

Before Janeway could say another word, he turned and walked out, leaving her to stew in silence.

A flustered Chakotay nearly ran into Tuvok as he stepped onto the Bridge.

"Commander, is there a problem with something?"

He turned to regard the chief security officer. "Would you mind coming with me to Sickbay?"

"Certainly, Commander." Tuvok briefly worked his console, then turned back. "Do you feel ill?"

Chakotay shook his head as he called the turbolift. "It's not me." The door slid open with a whoosh and they stepped inside. "It's about the Captain. Computer, sickbay."

Moments later, the turbolift doors hissed open on the sickbay. "Computer, activate EMH," Chakotay ordered.

"Please state the nature..." The Doctor trailed off as he turned to look the two men over. "Oh. You don't seem to be injured."

"An astute observation," Tuvok dryly remarked.

"We're here to discuss the Captain, Doctor," Chakotay said immediately after Tuvok.

"Why?" the Doctor suddenly asked. "What's the matter?"

Chakotay looked the hologram square in the eye, or at least in the cluster of photons that comprised his eye. "Her behavior has become more and more erratic over the past several months. I'm concerned that she may do something to place the crew in danger."


	5. Four

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Jacen awoke to darkness so thick that one could have cut it with a knife. He opened and closed his eyes several times, but couldn't even tell whether they were open or shut. Something was humming steadily in the background, something that sounded almost as if a swarm of Yavin IV's piranha beetles were nearby.

That thought made him practically fly out of his bunk, with the result that he slammed his head into a hard, cold surface above himself. Rubbing his head, he considered the situation. If there were somehow piranha beetles nearby, he had a serious problem indeed.

Then, finally, he let out a nervous laugh. "Room, lights full," he ordered, and the bunkroom was instantly bathed in light. There were no piranha beetles-the humming was that of the _Rock Dragon's_ machinery, propelling them through hyperspace toward Dathomir.

He quickly swung his feet off the bunk. The entire week before they had left Yavin IV they had been preparing, and that entailed a lot of work. First they cleaned up and sealed their quarters, which took a couple of days. Then they'd had to stock, fuel, and prepare the _Rock Dragon_, which took several more days. And the trip to Dathomir from Yavin IV was another day and a half because of the route that had to be used, which had plenty of obstacles in the way.

Once Jacen had finished dressing, he stepped outside the bunkroom and walked toward the transport's small hold. He found everyone sitting around a hologame table off to the side.

"Playing Dejarik again, sis? How badly did you get beaten this time?"

Jaina turned to face him, a triumphant smile on her face. "I didn't." She stood up and stretched. "I was wondering when you would wake up, anyway. We're about half an hour from Dathomir now."

"That close, huh?" he asked. As she nodded her agreement, he sat down at the end of the bench and watched the current game between Lowbacca and Tenel Ka. "I'll play the winner," Jacen offered after some time.

"You?" his sister chortled in amusement. "I thought you hated dejarik."

He shrugged. "Maybe I do, but it's better than nothing."

"You won't have enough time," Tenel Ka finally said during one of Lowie's turns, her eyes focused on the board as the Wookiee made his move. "Ah. Aha." She tapped the controls briefly, and one of her smallest holographic characters jumped across the table, knocking down a much larger character. Lowbacca made a surprised noise as the redhead leaned back contentedly.

"You were focusing too much on offense," she offered. "Anyway, I believe we only have about five minutes left. Would anyone care to come to the cockpit?"

Five minutes later, the cockpit of the _Rock Dragon_ was at its maximum rated capacity, with all four seats filled. The cockpit, located at the very front of the transport, had a viewing arc that was completely unobstructed-unlike that of the _Millenium Falcon_, whose loading mandibles blocked a good portion of the view. At the moment, the viewport was showing one of the oddities of hyperspace, a swirling maelstrom of blue-shifted light that seemed to defy conventional astrophysics.

Not that its occupants were interested in the view, of course. They were no strangers to hyperspace travel, and had seen that 'sky' any number of times. Of course, they were somewhat concerned about where the undefined lanes of hyperspace were taking them; Jaina's hand rested above the manual override, "just in case" as her father had said so many times. Even so, there was really no danger of navicomp failure.

"Right on schedule," Jaina reported as the navicomputer pulled them out of hyperspace. They were instantly greeted by a multicolored orb that seemed to hang in space-Dathomir. Dominated by browns owing to its mostly desert-like terrain, the planet had large patches of blue scattered across its surface. High clouds obscured a third of the visible area, although Tenel Ka didn't have to see it to know what was there.

Tenel Ka was silent for the longest time as Jaina began running their approach vector through the navicomp. It had been almost two years since she had visited her home; she wondered how much it had changed in the time she had been away. Probably not by much, she eventually decided. Although there had been radical thinkers since the planet's incorporation into the New Republic-the ill-fated Nightsisters were among them-none of them had lasted for very long. The Singing Mountain clan, which her mother's side of the family was from, was indeed the largest and strongest on Dathomir.

The planet below seemed to spin in place as the transport rolled so as to be right-side upon entering the atmosphere. The twisted remains of Warlord Zsinj's orbital shipyards flashed by, seemingly streaked by the speed of their descent, and after several seconds had passed they were arrowing through Dathomir's sky. Although none of them could see it yet, their target was a deep canyon that, because of strong winds, was the safest air approach to the fortress.

Less than a minute later, the _Rock Dragon_ set down on the valley floor, overshadowed by the sheer wall of the fortress. Tenel Ka noted with mild interest that there were some modern orbital defense turbolasers positioned on the turrets overlooking them. The last time she had visited, a team of Hapan engineers had been working on something, but she never had a chance to find out what it was; now she knew.

"I take it we're there?" a voice beside her said, interrupting her thoughts. She turned and saw that it was Jacen, realizing after a moment had passed that he'd never actually visited Dathomir.

"Uh..." Tenel Ka paused to collect herself. "Mostly there." She pointed out the viewport at the base of a stair that wound up the sheer wall. "We still have to climb that."

His jaw dropped. "How many steps is that? A thousand?"

"Roughly," she replied, smiling slightly as she saw his reaction. "It was an old protection against invasion, although not always effective."

"I suppose it keeps your clan in shape," Jacen managed to joke. "Anyway, if it's that far, shouldn't we be getting started?"

.

.

.

Deep space was not a good place for anyone, Cathi Riclin was convinced. And that was the reason why she, as the co-pilot of a Corellian YT-2400 light freighter named _Headwind_, had dropped out of hyperspace in the middle of what should have been nothingness, their nearest neighbors lone hydrogen atoms separated by thousands of kilometers.

Imagine her surprise at finding an entire fleet.

There had been legends among spacers for years, of course. The Dark Force, the Old Republic's two hundred ship strong parade fleet of fully-automated Dreadnaughts, was one of the most recent legends. It had been discovered by a smuggler punching random coordinates into his navicomputer around thirty years ago. But the _Katana_ fleet wasn't the only fleet of ships that had been lost over the many eons of hyperspace travel. Every now and then, somebody would stumble across a ship that had been assumed lost.

The only issue was that Cathi couldn't for the life of her remember any cases of _Imperator_-class Star Destroyers disappearing. Or why an _Imperator_-class would be in the same formation as an antique _Lucrehulk_ transport/battleship. Or why all the ships would appear to be fully powered on with sublight engines blazing...

Her hands dropped to the internal comm. "Tarv!" she shouted. "I need you up here _now!_"

The Twi'lek pilot staggered into the cockpit moments later, blinking as he tried to see in the dim light, his lekku twitching uneasily. "What's so important that you had to wake me up?" he asked irritably.

"See for yourself." She gestured out the viewports at the fleet that hung so serenely in space.

"A Star Destroyer?" he suddenly asked, not quite believing his eyes. "Where are we?"

"I dropped out to recalculate our course," Cathi answered. "We shouldn't be anywhere important."

"Well, what are we still doing here?" the Twi'lek demanded. "Don't wait for them to spot us! Get us moving!"

"I would be, if the navicomp hadn't crashed the instant we came out of hyperspace!" Cathi snapped back. "What do you want me to do, make a random jump?"

"Point taken," Tarv replied. "Who are they, anyway?"

"They're not broadcasting any sort of IFF that I could pick up," Cathi answered. "I've never seen any Republic or Imperial warship run that way."

"I've never seen any Republic or Imperial warships out in the middle of nowhere like this," Tarv agreed. "So, what then? Rogue warlord? Pirates?"

Cathi shrugged. "Who knows. Tarv, I told you weeks ago that the navicomp was going on the fritz. I thought you had it checked?"

"I didn't know any techs I could trust at our last stop," Tarv shot back.

"Translation: you were too cheap to hire anybody."

"We don't have time for this," the Twi'lek snapped. "We're sitting here helpless with a full load of illegal ryll. I'll take over things from here, you go to the hold and get ready to jettison the spice if things get dicey."

As she affixed another remote detonator pack to one of the spice crates, Cathi heard quiet footsteps coming down the hallway. "Tarv?" she inquired without looking. "What's the matter?"

"I just came down to tell you that that fleet went to hyperspace. You can stop putting the detonators on now."

"Oh." She carefully deactivated the detpack and placed it atop the spice crate, then turned around-

-to find herself staring directly into the barrel of Tarv's blaster. "W-wait, what?" she stammered.

"You're fired," Tarv replied, tightening his grip on the blaster pistol.

"Oh come on," Cathi protested. "If you wanted to fire me, you could have just dropped me off on Nar Shaddaa. What the hell's gotten into you?"

"How am I supposed to know that you haven't rigged something on this ship?"

"Maybe I did."

"I doubt it," Tarv said, and Cathi saw his finger move closer to the trigger. Her mind began racing, trying to figure out a way to stop him...

... when the ship suddenly lurched as if from a turbolaser blast, throwing Tarv off balance and sending his shot wild. Her adrenaline kicking in, Cathi lunged for him and swatted his blaster arm aside. The Twi'lek was nobody's fool, though, and as she brushed past his head he used his sharpened teeth to tear a gash across her arm. She screamed in pain, and promptly punched him full in the face, breaking his nose.

Breathing heavily, Tarv threw her off and tried to bring his blaster to bear again, but she swung out from her prone position, brought her boot behind his knee, and kicked hard. There was a sharp crack as the bones broke, sending him sprawling. He still clutched the blaster in his hand, and let off an accidental shot that brushed past her.

Cathi dove for the blaster, but the Twi'lek rolled over and hit her in the face with its butt. She cried out and redoubled her efforts, landing an elbow in one of Tarv's sensitive head-tails. In reaction to the pain, his grip on the blaster relaxed slightly, which she then kicked out of his hand. With the Twi'lek in hot pursuit, she scrambled over to where the blaster had landed, picked it up, and fired just as he lunged for her.

As Tarv slumped down to the floor, Cathi leaned back against the wall and considered the situation. Ever since she had started working for the Twi'lek, he had taken every opportunity to belittle her. Sometimes she even wondered why she had bothered sticking around as long as she had, but the payout from a successful spice run was often well worth it.

She started dragging his limp body to the nearest airlock. Halfway there, a tinny sounding voice interrupted her.

"What is the matter with Master Tarv?"

"Just a sudden case of death, Orb," Cathi answered the archaic protocol droid. An Orbot model 19 manufactured by Serv-o-Droid before their bankruptcy some four hundred years ago, Orb claimed to have had changed hands exactly three hundred and seventy-nine times (although memory wipes tended to mess that sort of figure up).

"How unusual!" the droid exclaimed.

Cathi rolled her eyes. On the one hand Orb knew millions of languages and the specific place settings to be taken if one was to eat with Seoularians, provided one found a way to travel back in time to a point where it was possible to find a living Seoularian to eat with. On the other hand, he could be extremely naïve and oblivious.

"I don't suppose you could give me a hand here," Cathi said.

"Must I keep reminding you that I was not built with manual labor in mind?" Orb retorted as he stiffly bent to pick up Tarv's legs.

"That's funny, because you seem to do just fine hauling loads."

"My servos are producing 11.6% less torque than factory spec and generating more noise."

"I thought that was normal for droids of your age," Cathi replied.

"Not with regular maintenance, of which I have been severely lacking."

"Then we'll just have to replace your servos with binary load lifter servos, won't we?"

Orb tried his hardest to look haughty. "Binary load lifter servos lack the precision necessary for my operation."

"Right," Cathi nodded, "as if you're going to be performing brain surgery anytime soon. Come on, we're almost there."

When they reached the airlock, Cathi slapped the controls to open the inner doors and then struggled to stuff Tarv's body inside. After closing the inner doors, she then activated the outer chamber doors and there was a quiet hiss as the airlock vented.

She arrived back in the cockpit about a minute later and went back to work on the navicomputer. After several minutes, one of the panel alarms went off, causing her to look up and nearly jump out of her skin.

.

.

.

By the time the four Jedi reached the top of the stairway, Jacen was wishing that he'd brought a speeder bike or something. He was already exhausted from the walk, and beads of sweat dripped down his face. A quick glance at Tenel Ka told him that although she might have been tired, she definitely wasn't showing it.

At the gate, they were met by two athletic young women, dressed in the same style as Tenel Ka. When they saw her, they nodded and let the group in.

"We should see my great-grandmother first," Tenel Ka said as they walked through the fortress. "She will likely welcome us."

Too thirsty to speak, Jacen merely nodded and followed her through the maze of passages inside the fortress until they came to what he assumed was the chamber of the Council of Sisters. As they stepped inside, everybody came to their feet, and a very old woman at the far end came to her feet.

"You have returned, Tenel Ka Chume Ta' Djo," the old woman, who Jacen realized a moment later was Augwynne Djo, said in a motherly tone. "How are you?"

"I am well," Tenel Ka simply replied as Augwynne walked over and embraced her.

The matriarch turned her attention to the rest of the Jedi. "And these are...?"

"Jacen, Jaina and Lowbacca," she responded as she pointed to each of them in turn.

"Ah, so this is that handsome young man you told me about," Augwynne Djo said as she looked Jacen over. He was painfully aware of the fact that his face was turning a bright shade of crimson as the wizened old matriarch spoke, and hurriedly attempted to run through a relaxation technique. Although it was successful, he realized that he hadn't been fast enough as she noticed the look on his face.

"Don't be ashamed, young man. Tenel Ka has excellent tastes in whom she chooses. You're the first man she has captured."

Jacen realized that his face was probably as red as Tenel Ka's hair by this point. He bowed his head and let out a slight chuckle, then looked back up in an attempt to regain face. "I am... honored?" he replied.

"As well you should be. Now, my great-granddaughter," she turned to Tenel Ka, "do you wish to have a marriage ceremony performed while you are here?"

Lowie let out what might have been the Wookiee equivalent of a chuckle, while a look of horror came across Tenel Ka's face. After a long, awkward pause, she burst out into peals of laughter. "Great-grandmother! I have no plans to wed Jacen. He is merely an old friend from the Jedi Academy."

"Ah, pardon my misunderstanding, Tenel Ka," Augwynne replied. "I had forgotten that you dislike many of the old customs. Still, one could say that there is more to the two of you than meets the eye."

The two Jedi exchanged nervous glances as Augwynne cleared her throat. "What is your full name, young man?"

"Jacen Solo," he nervously replied.

A look of puzzlement came across her face. "Are you related, then, to Han Solo?"

"He's my father."

Augwynne chuckled softly. "Then you must know that your mother was made an honorary member of our clan."

Jacen's eyebrows shot up. "No, I didn't," he admitted.

Augwynne smiled again. "It does not matter too much now," she said, turning to face Tenel Ka again. "So, great-granddaughter, what brings you back here?"

"We are going to meet with a fighter squadron led by a Jedi, and then continue on to investigate some strange attacks in the Outer Rim."

"Explain."

Tenel Ka paused for a moment. "There has been a string of attacks on planets and ships through the Outer Rim, but nobody knows what's been causing them. That's what we're going to try and figure out."

"A dangerous task," Augwynne mused. "How long will you be staying here before you leave?"

"Less than a week," Jaina replied, feeling somewhat left out. "Perhaps five days."

"Ah," The matriarch nodded. "In that case, you are most welcome to stay and rest. I believe you will need it."

.

.

.

As Cathi sat staring at the fleet that had somehow come within spitting distance of _Headwind_, the comm suddenly came to life.

"Attention unidentified freighter, this is the Imperial Star Destroyer _Magistrate._ You are in restricted space. State your intentions or you will be boarded."

Rubbing her head from where she'd bumped it on the panel a moment before, Cathi hit the comm's transmit switch. It wasn't very hard to sound intimidated when an entire fleet was hanging over you and escaping to hyperspace was out of the question.

"_Magistrate_, this is Cathi Riclin of the freighter _Headwind_. My navicomp malfunctioned and I was unaware of the status of this area."

She released the button and took in a deep breath. The spice in the hold was enough to land her in prison for life on most Imperial worlds. But with the Star Destroyer hanging overhead, dumping it now would be too obvious. Best to play along...

The voice on the other end of the comm was as unperturbed as ever. "Freighter _Headwind_, are you in need of assistance?"

Cathi's mind raced as she tried to guess how they would be gaging her response. "_Magistrate_, thanks for your offer but I think I'll be OK."

"Acknowledged, freighter _Headwind_." There was a brief pause on the other end, and for a moment Cathi thought they were going to leave her alone. Then a new voice came over the comm and her heart sank. "Freighter _Headwind_, we will need to ask you some questions. Shut down your engines, lower your shields, and prepare to dock."

"I copy, _Magistrate_," Cathi replied, crestfallen. As she ran through the docking routines, she idly wondered why the Imperials had taken an interest in an otherwise empty region of space.

The freighter momentarily shuddered as a tractor beam from the Star Destroyer latched on, and she watched the hangar bay grow to fill the cockpit viewports. A slight bump later-the tractor beam operators were pretty good, she decided-and _Headwind_ was resting on the hangar deck.

"Come out of your ship unarmed," an amplified voice boomed from outside. She stood up in the cockpit and tried to look for the source of the voice.

Stormtroopers.

She frowned as she looked over the perfectly ordered platoon. According to most sources, the stormtrooper forces in the Remnant were a pale shadow of what they had been during the heydey of the Empire. Between the original clones getting too old for front-line service, the quality of recruits slipping, and the cost of producing new sets of the plastoid armor (which had to be custom-fitted to each trooper), most Remnant forces had focused more on the regular Imperial Army troops.

Which meant that to find such a disciplined platoon of stormtroopers was a rarity.

Resigned to her fate, she dropped the main ramp and walked down.

"Welcome to the _Magistrate_," a gray-clad, middle-aged human officer greeted her. "Please follow me."

As she began walking, she glanced back at the ship, wondering if they were ever going to let her leave.

After being left alone in a sparsely furnished room for close to an hour, the door hissed open and two stormtroopers entered, taking up guard positions on either side with their rifles held ready. She blinked; that was something she hadn't noticed earlier. The powerful DC-15 rifles of the Clone Wars had been dropped in favor of smaller, more compact E-11 carbines throughout most of the Empire. Yet these troops carried the old-style rifles.

What really got her attention was the officer who entered next. His uniform was as unremarkable as any other Imperial officer, but his skin was unusually blue, and his eyes... She had only heard of one Imperial officer matching that description, and he had been dead for close to fifteen years. At least that's what the New Republic said.

Her eyes dropped to his rank bars and she took a moment to count. If she remembered the ranks correctly... that would make this alien a... _Commodore_?

The commodore glanced down at a datapad. "Cathi Riclin, captain of the YT-2400 light freighter _Headwind. _Is that correct?"

She nodded, unable to find her voice.

"From what I understand, you are 25 standard years. Isn't that a little young to own your own freighter?"

She shrugged, wondering if he'd checked the ship's registration. Probably not. "Age doesn't matter much if you're good at sabacc," she replied.

"Ah." He looked her up and down. "I would not have guessed you were a card player."

"Well, you know what they say about appearances," Cathi said with a laugh that she realized moments later didn't sound very sincere.

"Indeed." He looked back down at the datapad. "My men tell me that your ship's hold is filled with first-grade ryll spice. You are aware that the punishment for smuggling spice in both the Empire and the New Republic is life imprisonment, correct?"

"Yes, Sir," she acknowledged, her head dropping. This wasn't going to end well, she decided.

"Ah!" he exclaimed. "But I am forgetting my manners. I am Commodore Mantrel of the Imperial Navy. The _Magistrate_ is my flagship, and you are my guest today."

"I am?" she asked, puzzled.

"Of course," Mantrel replied. "I'm sure you will agree that life imprisonment is quite a waste of resources. So, I'm prepared to offer you a deal."

"And that is?" Suspicion was beginning to kick in.

"We will repair your navicomputer and take you to a destination of our choosing, after which you will be free to go."

Cathi frowned. It sounded suspiciously generous, particularly for an Imperial. "In exchange for what?"

"Merely information," Mantrel replied. "Who you are working for, your navigational logs, et cetera."

"I see." She considered the unasked questions... "And what about my cargo?"

"Per Imperial regulations, we must confiscate your cargo. I'm sure you understand."

She swallowed and nodded. The amount of spice they had been carrying was enough to buy an entire city's worth of land on some planets. The commodore's generous offer, then, basically amounted to a death sentence from the Twi'lek clans.

"The troops here will escort you to your quarters while we repair your ship," Mantrel concluded as he rose to his feet. "In the meantime, I have other matters to attend to. Farewell."


	6. Five

**CHAPTER FIVE**

"I'm sorry, Kathryn, but there simply is no way around this. I must relieve you of command until you show definite signs of improvement."

Captain Kathryn Janeway forced a sigh as she sat on one of the bio-beds in Sickbay. "I still think this is completely unnecessary, and somewhat primitive. You want to confine me to Sickbay? Why not simply perform treatments while I retain my command?"

"Starfleet Directive 44 specifies that if the captain or other officer is declared unfit for his or her position by the Chief Medical Officer, the CMO may remove the Captain from active service until the point at which the CMO declares the Captain fit for service. It is therefore entirely within my right as the acting Chief Medical Officer of _Voyager_ to remove you from active duty for the time being."

"And who made you the acting Chief Medical Officer?"

"You did, Captain."

"Right. If that's how you want to play this, effective immediately I am revoking your status as Chief Medical Officer."

"Unfortunately, Captain," a voice from behind said and Janeway spun about to face Tuvok, "the CMO's decision has already been logged in the computer. You no longer have that authority."

Janeway threw her hands up in the air before letting them drop back to her side. "Now what? You're in on this conspiracy as well? I thought you were the one person I could always trust."

"As did I, Captain. However, your decisions are becoming increasingly illogical. I strongly suggest you follow the doctor's orders and get plenty of bed rest."

"I am also restricting your caffeine intake," the Doctor remarked as he adjusted a hypospray. "Over the next week, I will allow you limited access to caffeine, as well as analgesics to counteract the effects of withdrawal."

.

. . .

.

"Acting Captain's Log, Stardate 52579.9." Chakotay turned and cleared his throat before continuing. "This entry marks the point at which I assume temporary command of the USS _Voyager_. Relieving Captain Kathryn Janeway was a hard decision for Tuvok, the Doctor and myself, but one that had to be made. We have reversed our course, and are currently five hours from the Outbound Flight at our present speed of Warp 8. I am of high hope that we can resume negotiations and come to a reasonable agreement."

He shut off the recorder, and glanced around the bridge. Directly in front of him, Lieutenant Tom Paris was at his usual position at the helm. Seven of Nine was back in Astrometrics, and other ensigns filled out the rest of the Bridge. Tuvok was currently conducting a holodeck training simulation for his Hazard Team, and Neelix... well, Chakotay could not have possibly cared less as to the whereabouts of the Talaxian.

Slowly, he dozed off, and by the time _Voyager_ arrived at its destination he was engaged in a dream about how one of Neelix's concoctions took control of Seven of Nine's central nervous system and decided to remove Janeway from command for no particular reason.

When an ensign tapped him on the shoulder to wake him up, he at first thought that the concoction had broken out of Seven, and was attacking him. So it was that when he finally woke up, several supernumeraries had their phasers trained on him, and the ensign that had attempted to awaken him was nursing an eye that had gone a lovely deep shade of violet.

"Um... did I hit you?" he asked the injured ensign, who nodded in reply.

He looked down at his hands. "Sorry. I was having a nightmare about Neelix's cooking..."

The remark broke the tension, as both the ensign and the security personnel cracked up.

"Well, Sir, what I was trying to tell you was that we're only a few minutes away from Outbound Flight."

Now fully awake, Chakotay nodded. "Hail them and let them know we'd like to meet with Master C'baoth again."

"Yes, Sir."

Chakotay paused in thought. "Now, where's Tuvok?"

"Still in the Holodeck, sir."

"All right," he said, pausing at the comm. "Tell Paris, Tuvok, and Seven to meet me in the transporter room," he ordered the ensign at the station. Then, he turned and strode to the turbolift.

.

. . .

.

When Chakotay materialized in D-One's hangar bay along with the others, he hadn't quite known what to expect. Seven had, of course, told him that the crew was mostly human. However, the thin line between human and humanoid was often quite blurred (especially in the case of B'Elanna) and so for a crew that was supposed to have travelled from another galaxy halfway across the universe, he was half expecting to see at least some sort of forehead ridge, different skin pigmentation, strange eye structure, or some other random mutation.

Instead, the small group that was waiting for him in the hangar bay of the Dreadnaught could have fit right in anywhere on Earth, or the Federation for that matter, without anyone so much as batting an eye.

"Commander Chakotay, correct?" a tall man with flowing gray hair and beard asked as he stepped forward and extended a hand. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth, administrator of the Outbound Flight Project."

He took the hand and shook it. "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," C'baoth replied. "I'm sorry to hear what happened to your Captain. It must be quite a burden to keep a ship such as _Voyager_ operating for as long as you have been without support."

"Yes, it certainly is," Chakotay found himself agreeing. _You have no idea,_ he mentally added.

C'baoth turned partway around to gesture toward the doorway at the back of the hangar bay. "Well, I suppose you'd like to get started. Please, follow me to the conference room."

After a short walk through the hallways and a turbolift ride, they entered the conference room where several more people came to their feet around the table. C'baoth waved an open hand at the nearest one in uniform, who was quite a bit shorter than Chakotay and had streaks of gray in his otherwise black hair. "Commander, this is Captain Jonas Avin."

"I take it you're captain of this ship?" Chakotay asked as he leaned over to shake the Captain's hand.

"Yes," Avin replied. "Actually, while the entire Outbound Flight can be controlled from D-One, each Dreadnaught has its own commander."

"I see," Chakotay replied, still not fully understanding.

The last person at the table, however, would be difficult to describe as even remotely humanoid except in the sense that it was bipedal and had two arms. The arms themselves ended in flipper-hands, and the creature's head was an ovoid shape with two large eyes that appeared to freely swivel on either side. Its skin coloration was generally salmon mixed with mottled patches of olive green, and had a wet shimmer. Chakotay couldn't help but feel that the creature would be more at home in water than on a starship.

"And this is Master Hkalle, our Jedi healer and head doctor," C'baoth finished.

Chakotay awkwardly reached out to shake the alien's flipper, which felt slightly cold and clammy. "You're from the same galaxy?" he asked.

"Yes," Hkalle replied in a voice as rough as a gravel crusher. "To answer the question I know you are thinking, my homeworld is a watery planet called Dac."

"I see," Chakotay replied. "And being aboard a starship like this doesn't bother you?"

The tendrils that hung below Hkalle's mouth waved slightly. "When we leave the water, we must either stay in humid environments, or moisten ourselves regularly. If we do not, it can become painful. My robes contain a moistening device so I may focus on other tasks."

Chakotay nodded.

"Now, Commander Chakotay, what have you come here to discuss with us?" C'baoth boomed.

Slightly taken aback by the sudden change in tone, Chakotay found it hard to remember what he was planning on saying. "Um... well, as Captain Janeway may have already told you, we have been stranded in this quadrant for slightly over five years now with no clear way home." He paused to clear his thoughts. "I understand that your faster than light drive is considerably more efficient than ours, and that you had expressed interest in towing us home in exchange for permission to set up a colony. Is that correct?"

C'baoth inclined his head. "Go on."

"Well," Chakotay searched for the appropriate term, "I would like to apologize for Janeway's abrupt departure, and while none of us have the authority to promise you a world to use for a colony, we will vouch for your character in front of the Federation Senate when you petition them."

"But we only just met," C'baoth rhetorically remarked. "How can you be so sure of our character?"

Chakotay looked directly across the table at the Jedi. "Master C'baoth, before we were pulled into this part of the galaxy, I was the captain of a ship involved in a resistance against an oppressive government near the Federation. While acting in that capacity, I was forced to make many hard decisions that would determine the fate of hundreds of people close to me. While I know that we are all fallible, I believe that I am at least a decent judge of character, and I have seen nothing from you or your crew to indicate a lack of sincerity."

C'baoth nodded. "Pardon me for playing the devil's advocate, but given your experiences, how is it that you wound up second in command to Captain Janeway?"

Chakotay let out a nervous, stifled laugh. "Sometimes I ask myself the same question. When my ship arrived in this quadrant, it was heavily damaged and we had lost many of our crew. _Voyager_ was sent to look for us and arrived in the same condition. We were attacked soon after by a local spacefaring race, and I made a decision to sacrifice my ship to give _Voyager_ a fighting chance. Captain Janeway decided to accept us as members of her crew, and we've been fighting to get home ever since."

C'baoth pulled out a datapad and passed it across the table to Chakotay. "This is the draft of the contract I presented to Captain Janeway. Read through it, and if you have any issues please feel free to bring them up."

Chakotay handed the datapad over to Tuvok. "We thought that most of it was agreeable the last time, but I am concerned about the blood tests that Captain Janeway mentioned. Why are you asking us for blood samples?"

"We are Jedi," C'baoth replied, gesturing toward Hkalle, Dellen, Lorana, and the other robed figures in the room. "The Jedi Order goes back for many tens of thousands of years, to a time before the founding of the Republic. Originally the Bendu Monks, as we were known then, were a monastic order that debated the morals of society. Over time, we became aware of something called the Force, a mystical energy field that surrounds and binds everything in the universe. To those of us that are called to be Jedi, the Force flows through us and grants us powers only dreamed of by ordinary mortals. This power comes at a price, however; we are entrusted to be the guardians of the Republic, and the untold quintillions of sentients within it."

Chakotay frowned. "I can understand that, but the blood tests?"

C'baoth coughed irritably. "I was getting to that. We discovered that there are certain markers in the blood of most humanoids that indicate who are more likely to be touched by the Force. As part of the Outbound Flight's mission, we must determine if these markers are present in life outside our galaxy."

"And if they are?" Chakotay asked.

"Then we will offer anyone with the potential the chance to be trained in the Jedi ways."

Chakotay leaned back in the chair and placed a hand on his chin. After considering the implications for nearly a minute, he leaned forward again. "We cannot provide you the blood samples you requested. However, you have my permission to perform testing on an individual basis, after obtaining full written consent from the crew members. I must also stress that per Federation laws, any blood samples taken cannot be used for genetic modification."

"That is more than agreeable," C'baoth agreed, taking his own datapad and making the changes necessary. "Is there anything else?"

Chakotay glanced over at Tuvok. "What do you think?"

"I think the contract is very well-written and comprehensive," the Vulcan stated. "We will not be violating any Starfleet protocols if we sign this."

He let out a deep breath. "One last question. How do we sign?"

C'baoth slid a stylus across the table. "Scroll down and mark at the bottom of the document."

Chakotay and Tuvok did so before passing the datapad across the table again, after which C'baoth and Captain Avin signed it in the same manner.

C'baoth stood up and extended his arm to Chakotay. "Congratulations. I believe we've both taken a step on the path to friendship for both the Republic and Federation." He turned to Captain Avin. "Captain, please call in the engineers. We should get started immediately."

"Chief Engineer B'Elanna can stay here to discuss the logistics with them," Chakotay suggested.

"Of course. Meanwhile, would you and your other crew members like to have a tour of the Outbound Flight?"

"Certainly," Chakotay replied.

.

. . .

.

Kathryn Janeway drummed her fingers restlessly on the side of her biobed. Being confined to sickbay was simply so... _maddening_.

She drew a LCARS console closer to herself, and looked it over. As she did so, she remembered that even the famed Captain James T. Kirk had often resorted to underhanded tactics in certain situations.

Several taps of the console brought her out of the Sickbay menu and into the ship's main menu.

_One time, when Kirk was in training at the Academy, he was presented with a test. Nobody before had beaten it, as it was designed to be unbeatable._

She accessed the crew roster, and proceeded to scan it.

_But he wouldn't let that stop him. He reprogrammed it and made it winnable, and thus passed the test. Only afterward did they notice what had happened._

_Perfect,_ she thought to herself as she noticed one of the ensigns' entries. Janeway was about to access it, but then she stopped herself and casually looked at her own profile.

KATHRYN JANEWAY

2338-PRESENT

GRADUATED STARFLEET ACADEMY, MAY 2363. MAJORED IN SPACIAL PHYSICS. PROMOTED TO RANK OF ENSIGN, JANUARY 2364. ASSIGNED AS SCIENCE OFFICER TO USS AL-BATANI UNDER CAPTAIN RICHARD PARIS. TRANSFERRED TO . . .

She scrolled down the display, knowing perfectly well of her own history.

PROMOTED TO CAPTAIN, DECEMBER 2368. ASSIGNED COMMAND OF INTREPID-CLASS USS VOYAGER. TEMPORARILY RELIEVED OF COMMAND, JUNE 2375 BY ORDERS OF CHIEF MEDICAL OFFICER.

CURRENT STATUS: PENDING FURTHER EVALUATION

Janeway frowned at the display. She had already completed several batteries of psychological tests; what could this mean?

She shut the LCARS terminal off, shoved it away, and decided to go to sleep. Maybe things would sort themselves out.

.

. . .

.

Several hours after the meeting aboard D-One, B'Elanna found herself leading a team of the Outbound Flight engineers through Voyager's engineering section. They stopped in front of the warp core, where the mostly human engineers looked up at with shock and astonishment written across their faces.

"That's a M-AM reactor?" one of them asked.

"Yes," B'Elanna replied. "Deuterium and anti-deuterium."

The chief engineer of D-One, Lieutenant Derek, scratched his head in thought. "Looks dangerous," he finally remarked. "What kind of containment measures do you have in place?"

"The reactions themselves are magnetically confined," B'Elanna replied. "The core itself has an eject mechanism should the reaction become unstable."

"And how do you harness the power from it?" one of the other engineers asked.

B'Elanna pointed to the glowing, transparent plasma conduits that came from the side of the reactor. "Plasma from the reaction is sent through those conduits to the warp nacelles and other critical systems on the ship."

"They look kind of fragile," Derek remarked. "Why not just convert the heat of the plasma to electricity?"

She shrugged. "The efficiency's not high enough to power the warp drive. Cochrane's first warp drive was electrically powered by an old-fashioned nuclear fission reactor, but it was barely able to pass lightspeed. We're able to achieve much faster velocities this way."

"Right, but the conduits are all transparent, so all that light they're emitting is going to waste." Derek replied.

"Look, I didn't design the system, OK?" B'Elanna shot back in frustration. "I just have to keep it running."

"All right, all right," Derek said to calm her down. "I think for safety's sake, we should power down the warp core before we dock your ship. Do you have secondary power systems?"

"Twelve fusion reactors," B'Elanna replied immediately. "Eight for our impulse drives, and the other four for emergency power."

Derek nodded. "That should work. Now, I was looking at your hull damage and I think we're going to have to do some work to reinforce it before we attach _Voyager_."

"It's been pretty hard finding readily available sources of duranium and tritanium here," B'Elanna replied. "How do you plan on reinforcing it?"

"We'll just tractor in one of the smaller asteroids out in the belt," Derek said. "There's a molecular furnace in the storage core that should be able to fabricate whatever we need. Now, last question. Do you have any sort of relativistic shielding?"

"Relativistic..." B'Elanna gave him a puzzled look. "Why would that be necessary?"

"Well, I'm not sure how your warp drive works, but relativistic shields are basically stasis fields synchronized with the ship's hyperspace velocity. That way, if you're traveling at one hundred light-years per hour, you actually experience one hour for every hundred light years traveled."

"Huh," B'Elanna frowned. "That would be kind of useful for impulse drives."

"How so?" Derek asked.

"Starfleet limits full impulse to one quarter lightspeed," B'Elanna explained, "because at speeds over that, time dilation slows the crew's response to outside threats."

"Ah." Derek scratched his chin. "Never really thought of it that way. It's just one of those things you wouldn't want to have fail on you..." Realization dawned across his face, and he slapped his forehead in the universal symbol of exasperation. "I can't believe we didn't think of that before..."

"What?"

"If we'd disabled the relativistic shielding, we wouldn't have had to enter hibernation. The last sixty years would only have taken a couple months at sublight..."

B'Elanna started to nod but stopped herself. "I thought Master C'baoth said something about needing the time to generate... what did he call it? Hypermatter?"

"Ah. Right. There goes that idea." The engineer let out a tired laugh. "Not that it would have made any difference now anyway."


	7. Six

**CHAPTER SIX**

After three weeks of Imperial hospitality, Cathi was beginning to wonder if they would ever let her go - or if this was just a big, cosmic joke that was being played on her. Perhaps even more surprising was the fact that she was being held in one of the Star Destroyer's guest quarters rather than the brig. That was not to say that she had the run of the ship, of course. There was always a stormtrooper escort following her around wherever she went.

The door chimed a moment before opening, and the ever-present guard stepped through, followed a moment later by the ship's captain.

"Good news, Miss Riclin," he began. "Your navicomputer has been repaired and you are free to go."

She let out a sigh of relief. "That's it?"

The captain smiled. "Were you expecting to be held indefinitely?"

"Perhaps," Cathi replied. "As I remember, the Empire did not exactly have the best relationship with smugglers."

"The Empire has changed quite a bit," the captain remarked cryptically. "Would you like to see your ship?"

True to their word, they dropped her off in orbit of a fairly unremarkable planet in the Outer Rim. For hours, she sat in the cockpit trying to think of solutions. She could go down to the planet, sell the _Headwind_, and make a new life for herself. But what was the point in that? Eventually some bounty hunter would trace the ship back to her, and then she'd be killed. Or worse, like being sent to work in the spice mines of Ryloth for the rest of her life. She had also heard quite enough about the Twi'lek sex trade to have particularly vivid nightmares about what could happen with that.

Or she could jump to a place like Ord Mantell where she could pawn the ship off and get a new life. She shook her head. That only worked in the holovids. She'd heard of too many smugglers who simply disappeared, only to turn up dead months or years later at the hands of bounty hunters.

"Well, that settles it," she said to herself. She couldn't run, she couldn't hide for very long, and she wasn't enough of a slicer to cover her tracks very well. YT-2400 freighters were fairly common – CEC had made tens of thousands – but she had no credits in any accounts to pay for changing the ship's identification. She'd been counting on the payoff from this load of ryll to keep her until the next job, and now that payoff had simply evaporated along with the spice.

She pointed the ship away from the planet and closed her eyes. This wasn't how she had wanted her life to turn out. Once, in fact, she had dreams of exploring the galaxy and discovering one of the millions of still-unknown species in it. But life had chosen a different path for her, obviously.

She killed the safeties on the hyperdrive and grabbed the actuator levers. This was supposed to be quick and painless...

In a burst of charged plasma and Cronau radiation, the small freighter flashed to hyperspace.

.

. . .

.

Jacen was starting to see why Tenel Ka preferred the rugged, often arid planet to the overly cultured environment of Hapes. The day after their arrival, she had taken time to teach him, his sister, and Lowbacca how to ride rancors. The sight of the monstrous creatures at first startled him, and he remembered his uncle Luke's tale of the one he had encountered at Jabba's palace all those years ago. The more time he spent around them, however, the easier it was to connect with them, and he had discovered that they were actually quite intelligent despite their appearance.

Once they had mastered riding the giant creatures, Tenel Ka had led them out to a lake some thirty kilometers away from the fortress. They had spent the next few days camped out near the lake, hiking in the almost impossibly tall nearby mountains and then cooling off in the placid waters of the lake. Jacen had been surprised again there; despite only having one arm, Tenel Ka still managed to swim faster than he could. He'd laughed and said that he was out of shape, but he still had to admit that it was impressive.

When they had told Luke that they would be visiting Dathomir, he had suggested that they visit the ruins of the _Chu'unthor_. The old Jedi training ship was still slowly rusting away in the middle of a canyon, serving as a memorial to those that had fallen in combat with the Nightsisters hundreds of years before.

So it was that they had taken their rancor mounts and made their way out to where the wreckage of the _Chu'unthor_ filled up an ancient canyon. They left the rancors up on the plateau where they could take care of themselves, and headed down the small, muddy path that lead to the slow-moving river that the ship had ended up in.

When they finally reached the muddy waters, Lowbacca dropped the pack he had been carrying, pulled out a bright orange inflatable raft, and set to work with a small pump. Soon they were plying their way across the river, and after a bit of work tied it up on a half-rusted antenna that jutted up from the tilted wreck of the ship.

Jacen already knew that there was probably very little that was new that could be learned from the wreck as Luke had retrieved the ship's store of datacards years before, and subsequent trips with Tionne had unearthed even more information, but just standing on it made his nerves tingle.

"Are we going to go inside or what?" Jaina suddenly asked from behind him.

"Should we?" Jacen asked.

"Well, why not?" his sister argued. "There were training areas inside and I'm curious to see how they set those up. And it's not like there are any bodies aboard, the ship didn't crash after all." She reached into one of the many pockets on her brown jumpsuit and pulled out a datapad, calling up one of the schematics of the ship. "I think there's an access hatch we can use about twenty meters due west."

After following Jaina to where the schematic indicated the hatch was, Jacen frowned. "I don't see how we're supposed to open it. It looks like it's welded pretty tight."

Jaina was already kneeling down on the rusted metal, and pointed to a barely visible hairline seam in the panel. "Uncle Luke told me he and Tionne cut this door at a diagonal so its weight would keep it sealed," she said, coming to her feet and taking a step away from it. "We just need to levitate it up."

"Easy enough," Jacen agreed, and reached out toward the hatch. A moment later, he winced and dropped his arm back to his side as if it had been stung. "Kriff, that thing's heavy!"

"Perhaps we should try to work together?" Tenel Ka suggested.

"That's what I was going to say," Jaina added, "before you went off and tried to be the hero as usual."

Jacen flashed a typically lopsided grin. "Hey, I guess it runs in the family..."

After several false starts, they managed to lift the heavy slab of durasteel off the hatch opening, leaving just enough room for Lowbacca to squeeze through. After some four hundred years of sitting exposed to the elements in a tar pit, none of the emergency lighting was still functional on the ship and all the Jedi pulled out glowrods so they could see inside.

There was a slight growl from Lowbacca and moments later, Em Teedee piped up. "Master Lowbacca says that it smells quite terrible in here."

"So we noticed," Jacen said nasally, one hand pinching off his nose. The odor wasn't anything like the smell of anything rotting, but it was just a musty, dank odor that was quite disagreeable. Probably had something to do with the ship being welded shut for so long with no life support functions.

They navigated the corridors of the ship in silence for several minutes, eventually coming to one of the transparisteel-domed openings that had apparently served as a cafeteria. Plates, cups, and utensils still littered the tables as if someone had left in a hurry. They all seemed to be covered in a thick layer of dirt, which as Jacen approached he realized was actually the dried, decomposed remains of whatever food had been on the plates.

He sneezed as his footsteps kicked up some of the dust on the floor. "Whatever was growing in this mess is long dead," he remarked.

"No kidding," Jaina agreed. "Well, I don't think we're going to learn anything here. Let's keep going."

Another fifteen minutes of wandering dark and often collapsed corridors later, they came to another domed area. This one had patterns of lines painted on the floor, and several huge balls were scattered around.

"I do not understand," Tenel Ka declared. "Was this some sort of game? Or just for exercise?"

"There's one way to find out," Jaina said as she walked over toward one of the largest balls.

"Please tell me you're not going to do what I think you're going to," Jacen said.

"I've been dying to use that telemetric technique that Uncle Luke taught me," she replied. "Isn't this the perfect opportunity?"

"Yeah," Jacen said. "I also remember him warning you about how dangerous it could be if you used it on anything that had been touched by the Dark Side."

Jaina rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Now who's sounding like Mom? We're on a Jedi training ship that hasn't been touched by anyone except Uncle Luke in four hundred years. What's the worst that could happen?"

Jacen sighed. "Fine. Let's see how this game was played."

Jaina reached out toward the ball and put her hands on its surface, which still appeared unblemished compared to everything else on the ship. As Jacen watched, her eyes closed and she seemed to go into a trance-like state for only a few seconds before her eyes snapped back open. She turned back to them, silently, and Jacen waited for her to say something.

"Well?" he finally asked after what seemed like minutes had passed.

"It... for a moment, it felt like I was there," she finally managed to say. "I saw flashes of faces, the Jedi padawans playing the game. I think it was some sort of telekinetic exercise, they would bounce these balls back and forth without touching them, and if one went between these white lines, they scored a point against that person."

"Sounds fun," Jacen remarked. "Sort of like Limmie, I guess?"

"With more goalies," Jaina agreed.

Limmie, or bolo-ball as it was known outside the Core, was a relatively unpopular sport on Coruscant but had a fanatical following throughout the rest of the galaxy. It was played by only using the players' feet to kick a ball through goals on the opposite ends of a wide field.

Jacen looked around at the domed area again. The white lines formed an octagon, with three meter wide openings on each face. He guessed that the Jedi version the padawans had played involved about eight players, each one playing both goalie and offense, paired up against opposite sides of the room.

"Well, I think four of us can give it a shot," Jacen said as he walked over to one of the sides. He reached out and drew the nearest ball towards him. Tenel Ka walked to the opposite side of the octagon, and Jaina and Lowbacca took up positions at right angles to him.

"Who's going to keep score?" Jaina asked a moment later.

"I am capable of serving in that capacity," Em Teedee declared as he floated off Lowbacca's utility belt to a position high in the dome above.

"I'll try not to hit you with the ball, Em Teedee," Jacen laughed as the ball in front of him began to float in his grip.

"All players ready?" Em Teedee asked, changing his voice to sound like one of the HoloNet sports announcers. Jacen snorted at the little droid's antics and nodded.

"Play ball!"

Jacen launched his ball across the room at the same time as the others. As it sailed through the middle, it collided with a ball from Jaina and both went shooting off in diagonal directions, arcing back toward the floor and bouncing several times. As Jacen struggled to maintain his grip on the ball, he became dimly aware of another projectile flying straight at him and jerked himself sideways.

"First goal goes to Tenel Ka!" Em Teedee announced a moment later.

Chagrined, Jacen picked up the ball that was now rolling around behind him and lobbed it upward. As it began to arc across the dome, Jacen reached out to grab the first ball but Lowbacca had already sent it rolling toward Jaina. He gave it a shove sideways toward Tenel Ka, and the ball began to curve around the dusty floor just as she caught the flying ball in an invisible grip. As she sent the hovering ball back toward him, he reached out to swat the ball on the ground, sending it shooting toward an open space of floor near her feet. She reacted a moment too late, only managing to deflect the ball slightly off course.

"Goal: Jacen, against Tenel Ka."

The back and forth continued for several more minutes although both Jacen and Tenel Ka managed to block each other's attempts to score. Jaina and Lowbacca, meanwhile, kept scoring goals against each other. He watched, fascinated, as they made the balls spin in midair, almost dancing in a blur of colors. Then the spinning stopped and the balls shot down in opposite directions. Both Jedi caught the balls and hurled them back, where they collided in the middle and began orbiting once more.

Jacen hefted his ball and hurled it directly at the center, where Jaina and Lowbacca were having their contest. It impacted and sent both balls flying off at crazy trajectories. Maintaining his grip on the one ball, he continued to guide it straight at Tenel Ka, who was simply hovering her own ball in front of herself. He felt his ball come to a halt in front of her. He concentrated and struggled to push it closer, but it simply refused to budge.

Then three balls all slammed into him at once, knocking him over so hard that he landed on his tailbone. For several moments, he simply lay there, stunned, as he tried to recover his breath. When he finally propped himself up on one elbow to look at the others, they had all stopped playing and Jaina was laughing. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, that hit just knocked the wind right out of me," he replied as he got back up and rubbed his back. "It was fun, though. They're going to love that back at the Academy."

"Hey, Em Teedee!" Jaina shouted up at the little droid. "Can you snap a picture of the whole room from up there?"

"Of course, Mistress Jaina," the droid replied, floating back down to Lowbacca's belt after a few moments.

Jacen peered up to see where the position of Dathomir's sun was. "What time is it, anyway?" The way the shadows were aligned, it had to be somewhere around midday.

"The time is 0937 hours," Em Teedee answered.

Then again, Jacen reflected, they had gotten up before dawn had even broken that morning. He wasn't usually a morning person, and trying to adjust himself from Yavin to Dathomir had been quite interesting so far; besides the day/night cycles, which were several hours shorter than a Coruscant standard day, there was also the matter that Dathomir's gravity was a bit lower than the jungle moon.

Jaina had already pulled out her datapad again and was scanning the schematics of the ship. "I think the lightsaber training room is the next dome we'll be going through," she said after tapping away for some time.

"Of course it would be," Jacen replied. "Let me see that thing. Didn't they have some kind of zoo aboard?"

"Sure. And they had a three ring circus with banthas," Jaina replied as she handed the datapad over.

Jacen gave her a pained look. "Come on now, I was being serious for a change."

"So was I... well, maybe not about the circus, but there's a bantha compound on the other side of the ship."

He frowned and looked down at the datapad. Sure enough, one area was labeled BANTHAS. "What the heck would they want with banthas on a Jedi training ship?"

"Perhaps they wanted real milk for the Padawans," Tenel Ka suggested in an absolutely serious tone.

The thought of a bantha dairy on a starship made Jacen crack up, but as comical as the idea sounded, it actually made a certain amount of sense. After all, the only thing banthas really needed was feedstock, water, and a certain amount of space to move around in. The _Chu'unthor_ was certainly large enough to have met all three requirements.

Following the schematics, Jaina again led them through several hundred meters of hallways, although it would have been a much shorter route had so much of the ship not collapsed internally. The first room they entered was filled with dust-covered test equipment. A sheet was draped over something in one corner of the room, and Jaina immediately ran over. The sheet disintegrated in her hand as she pulled it off to reveal a slumped-over stocky, metallic humanoid form.

"Hey, it's a Cybot GA-series analysis droid!" Jaina exclaimed. "I wonder if it's still functional..."

She reached around and flipped a switch on the back of the machine, and was rewarded as its optical receptors lit up. It attempted to straighten itself but the centuries of neglect appeared to have frozen its servos.

"Cybot Galactica GA-16 Information Analysis Unit, serial number 465-besh-nern-44486. Error 483," the droid spoke in a voice that Jacen could have sworn sounded slightly rusty. "General servomotor failure. Please contact the Cybot Galactica support hotline to set up a service request."

Jaina turned to Lowbacca as the droid began to repeat the error message. "Anything you can do?"

Lowbacca shook his head and rumbled a reply, which Em Teedee translated as "Not without the right spare parts."

"Let's see if I can bypass the error message." Jaina switched the unit off and pried open one of its panels, flipping several switches inside. Apparently satisfied, she closed the panel and hit the power again.

"Cybot Galactica GA-16 Information Analysis Unit, serial number 465-besh-nern-44486. Service Mode Enabled. Please state your command."

"Access information records," Jaina pronounced carefully.

"What records would you like to access? Choices are..." The droid paused for several seconds as if stalled. "Error: Unable to access _Chu'unthor_ central computer records. Please state your command."

"Diagnostics."

"Which diagnostic would you like to run?"

"Function test."

The droid began to rattle off a list of functions that Jacen had no clue about. The only information that he caught from it was that its ship datalink was currently down, unsurprising since _Chu'unthor_ had not had power in several centuries, and that all primary servos had failed.

Jaina finally flipped the unit off in disgust. "Without the central computer, it's pretty much useless," she explained. "If we could somehow get the computer back up and running, it would be great to have."

"Doesn't matter anyway," Jacen replied. "Remember, Uncle Luke picked up all of this ship's records years ago."

Jaina scratched her head thoughtfully. "You know, we could probably make good use of this droid back at the Academy. They only replaced it with the GY-I around the time of the Clone Wars, so there are still a lot of them in service."

"Who's going to carry it?" Jacen pointed out.

Jaina looked at Lowbacca, who shook his head emphatically. She sighed, then continued. "Well, I guess if we find a working hoversled we might be able to do something."

"If you believe it will be that useful," Tenel Ka said, "we could all levitate it in front of us like we did with the entrance hatch."

"Let's just come back to it later," Jacen said after considering her suggestion. "We still have a lot of ship to explore."

Leaving the dilapidated data center behind, the next room turned out to be the lightsaber training dome. Several training remotes lay on the floor, collecting dust, and a number of what Jacen guessed were large bowls were scattered around. He walked over to one, picked it up, and frowned.

"Who puts straps in a bowl?"

"Let me see that," Jaina said as she took it out of his hand. "You dummy! It's not a bowl, it's a helmet... and from the size of the harness inside, I'd say it's for a pretty small kid." She took the helmet and dropped it on Jacen's head; the end result must have looked rather absurd, with the wide helmet perched halfway up and completely slanted. For a moment, Jacen thought he heard Tenel Ka snicker softly, but when he lifted the helmet to look up at her, her face was completely unreadable.

Lowbacca, meanwhile, was on the other side of the room. His tall form was bent down as he worked at something on the ground, and a minute later he walked back with some small cylinders in his massive paws.

"Are those lightsabers?" Jaina asked with no small degree of surprise. The cylinders were barely as long as her hand, Jacen noted as she picked one up. Then she pointed it away from everyone and depressed the activation stud. A short, dimly glowing green blade sprung to life with more of a fizzle than the usual crisp snap-hiss, then flickered several times before dying out completely.

"I think they're low-powered training sabers," he observed, picking another one out of Lowbacca's hand. Pointing it outward, he ignited it and made a slicing movement toward the deck. Instead of carving a line into the deck plating, the saber bounced off without leaving a mark, then sputtered out.

"So how old do you think the trainees were?" Jacen asked.

Jaina shrugged and looked at the helmet again. "They couldn't have been very old. Maybe four."

"That's a lot younger than we were," he remarked.

"Tell me about it," Jaina agreed. "If they were training with sabers at four... I wonder when they started?"

"I've heard that some were taken as infants," a voice behind them said, causing all four Jedi to turn around and draw their lightsabers in alarm. When they saw that the voice belonged to Kyp, they relaxed and switched off their blades.

"How long have you been standing there?" Jaina asked.

The older Jedi shrugged. "Only about five minutes. You guys were pretty preoccupied." He looked around the dusty room. "Man, this place really is falling apart."

Jaina frowned in thought. "About what you said... where did you hear that, anyway?"

"Imperial propaganda," Kyp replied. "Got a heavy dose of it at Kessel. Claimed that the Jedi were baby-snatchers. Maybe that part of it wasn't very far from the truth after all."

Jacen and Jaina exchanged looks. "Well, you know what Master Luke says about half-truths often being more effective than outright lies," Jaina said after a moment. "So, anyway, what took so long? I thought we'd be meeting up sometime last week."

"We ran into some snags with the weapons loadout on the XJs," Kyp answered. "They put three torpedo launchers on the fighter in place of the original single launcher. Because of that, the torpedoes are incompatible with all of my other fighters."

"But they managed to keep the firepower the same," Jaina remarked. "That's impressive with such a small warhead."

Kyp nodded. "Anyway, I was contacted by a rep from the Extragalactic Society after you left. One of their observation stations out in the Tingel Arm hasn't reported in in over a month. They sent a ship last week to investigate and haven't heard back from them either, so they want us to take a look."

"So that's our next stop?" Jacen asked.

"No, we'll still check out the convoy first, since it's closer." Kyp replied. "Well, I'm going to head back to my fighter. I'll meet you guys back at the Singing Mountain Clan."

"Wait," Jaina said suddenly. "Could you help us move something first?"

He paused in mid-stride. "Sure. Where is it?"

"The old GA-series in the next room. Its servos are frozen, but Lowbacca and I can repair it back at the Praxeum. I figured Tionne could use the help."

Together they picked up the old droid and levitated it in front of themselves all the way back to the entrance hatch. While Kyp took off in his X-wing, which he had landed on a flat part of the _Chu'unthor_, Lowbacca wrapped a rough blanket around the droid to cover any sharp edges and placed it into the inflatable raft.

The mood was quiet during the hour-long ride back to the Singing Mountain Clan. Once there, they said their goodbyes to the clan, and set about preparing the _Rock Dragon_ for takeoff. Two hours after that, they were back in space hurtling through hyperspace toward the location of the distress signal.

"You know, this doesn't really make any sense," Jacen said as he paced back and forth in the passenger lounge. "The only link we have between the convoy and Bimmiel is reports of attacking asteroids. And then there's this ExGal station on Belkadan that nobody's heard from. Who would attack such random targets?" He waved his hands emphatically. "I mean, think about it: a scientific research station, a convoy, and an archaeological expedition on an uninhabitable planet."

Jaina regarded him with a bemused look. "We don't even know if Belkadan and the convoy are related to Bimmiel. As far as we know, ExGal 4 could have had a communications problem, while the convoy was probably a pirate attack. The aliens on Bimmiel were probably just upset over the researchers invading their burial grounds!"

He shrugged. "That's a possibility, but..."

"We'll find out when we get there, won't we," Jaina cut him off.

Jacen glared at his sister. "I'd still like to have some idea of what's going on before we get into the middle of things. So far we're only going on sketchy information."

"I know - _We_ know, Jacen." She paused for a moment. "I'm just as nervous as you are about this. But we don't have any choice now; we're going to arrive in a few hours." Jaina gave him a friendly pat on the back. "Try not to worry about it. I'm going to head back to the cockpit and see if Tenel Ka or Lowbacca need to do anything."

"That will not be necessary," a voice behind her said. "The navicomputer will give us fair warning before we exit hyperspace."

The twins turned about to face Tenel Ka, standing as alert as she typically did. She inclined her eyebrows. "Of course, there is always the danger of pirates, but with the Dozen-and-Two Avengers nearby, I would hope that any would-be attackers might realize discretion is the better part of valor."

"They wouldn't even know what hit them," Jacen jokingly commented. "At least judging by the attitudes of Kyp's pilots," he hastily added in response to a slightly confused look from the warrior.

"Ah," Tenel Ka nodded. "Aha."

"If they would spend as much time working on their piloting as massaging their egos, they would rival Rogue Squadron," Jaina added derisively. "Brand-new XJs or not, I really wouldn't want to fly in a squadron like that."

"And I thought you looked almost eager when Kyp asked you if you wanted to join his squadron."

Jaina spun about to face her brother, irritation clearly evident on her face. "Maybe I was, for a moment. You should know that I've always wanted to fly in a professional squadron... but the Avengers are really just amateurs with fancy hardware."

He raised his eyebrows. "Have to admit, they've done a pretty good job against pirates for a bunch of amateurs."

"Hah. Pirates," she remarked scornfully. "They're nothing compared to a professional military force." Her tone changed slightly, gaining a worried edge. "Although that does have me concerned; if you're right and this isn't just some third-rate group that's been causing trouble, then we are going to have serious problems."

By the time the navicomputer signaled that reversion from hyperspace was imminent, the four Jedi were in their positions and the ship was ready, its deflectors and sensors already powered up and waiting. Jaina had taken over piloting, with Tenel Ka sitting in the copilot's seat; while she couldn't easily fly with only one arm, running the navicomputer and various other systems was far from difficult.

"We're powered up and ready," Jacen reported from the port laser turret. A Wookiee roar, which needed no translation, echoed him.

"Standby," Tenel Ka reported, her voice sounding smooth despite the stress that all of them were facing. She waited for the navicomputer to count down...

The _Rock Dragon_ smoothly decelerated, the mottled sky of hyperspace gradually streaking and then turning into a field of points.

"Avengers, report in," Tenel Ka said over the comm.

"We're all accounted for," Kyp's voice responded. "Nothing's turned up on passive sensors yet."

A collective sigh of relief came from the four Jedi aboard the transport. "I'll run a full-power scan," Jaina commented, her hands flying across the console. "It should show anything that's sensor-stealthed."

After a short period of time, she spoke up again. "I've got what looks like a debris cloud, range about ten thousand klicks. No lifesigns anywhere. Sending vectors right now."

As they neared the debris field, the Jedi aboard the _Rock Dragon_ heard a snort come across the com. "Isn't this a little small to be from a convoy?"

"Miko, keep the comm clear," Kyp replied.

Jacen stared out the forward viewport, wondering about the dispersed debris field. Whatever was passing through his mind was interrupted by his sister.

Keying the com on, Jaina spoke into it. "Avengers, this is Jaina. Let me know if you find anything we can use for identification." She switched it off and turned to Lowbacca. "Lowie, I need you to use the tractor beam. Drag in anything that looks promising."

The Wookiee urfed a reply as Jaina got up, giving the controls to her brother. She turned to exit the cockpit. "I'll be in the main hold. If there's nothing on whatever you bring in, I'll dump it back."

"Got it," Jacen replied, focusing on the debris through the Force, trying to see if there was anything that drew his attention. A few minutes later, he noticed a small piece that seemed mostly intact, and Lowie snagged it with the tractor beam.

"Good catch," an excited voice echoed from the hold. "It has some numbers on it, but I'm not quite sure what it's from." There was silence for a moment. "Jacen, can you come here and take a look at this?"

Jacen stood up, leaving Tenel Ka and Lowie with the task of flying the ship. Moments later, he reached the hold.

"Take a look at these," Jaina commented, pointing towards a set of deep scratches in the plate. "I could almost swear that these are tooth marks."

He knelt down, inspecting the plate. 'You're right," Jacen eventually agreed. "That's kind of odd, though. I don't think there would be any space slugs this far from an asteroid, and they're about the only organic I can think of that could do this kind of damage.

"Well, they _did_ show asteroids attacking them," Jaina replied.

Jacen rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. Even I've had enough orbital mechanics lessons to know that any asteroid that did this would still be close to the debris."

"Or on an intersecting orbit," Jaina added. "Hang on, let me plot out some of the objects in this system and see if any would have intersected this orbit in the past week or two." She tapped away at the comm-scan computer for several minutes. "Huh. Looks like only a couple of rocks came within a few hundred thousand klicks of this location. Let's check them out anyway."

One short hyperspace jump brought them to the first of the objects, which turned out to be a small, dried-out dustball of a comet. Sensor scans came up blank, so they made several passes around the old comet to try and find any trace of silicon lifeforms like a space slug. Each time, they came up empty-handed. After several minutes of that, Jaina gave up and plotted a jump to the second object, which turned out to be just as uninhabitable as the first: a smooth, metal-rich lump of an asteroid with no distinctive surface features and only one crater right in the middle of its hourglass-shaped mass. It was most certainly too small to host a space slug, barely larger than a Corellian CR-90 corvette.

Just to be sure, several pilots in Kyp's squadrons took shots at the asteroid, but nothing at all happened.

"Hey, I think I've got something," Jaina said a moment later. "Looks like more debris, about ten degrees spinward of our original location." She frowned and looked back at the display panel. "Not sure why I didn't see that before..."

When they emerged from the jump at the newly discovered debris field, Miko let out a low whistle. "This is more like it. There's gotta be pieces of a hundred different ships here..."

Jacen leaned forward to look out the viewport at the black expanse beyond, and tapped at some of the controls to call up a magnified, high-contrast view of the area ahead. The dead hulks of several ships were drifting aimlessly through space. At least one appeared to be a light freighter of Corellian design, while several others had probably been pleasure yachts.

"What do you think happened?" he asked his sister.

"I don't see any carbon scoring," she replied without taking her eyes off the sensor readouts. "Strange... that freighter over there looks like the hull just sort of melted in places."

Kyp and Miko accelerated away from the rest of the squadron and navigated their way through the field of debris to pull up to one of the largest hulls.

"What can you see there?" Jaina asked.

"Maybe I'm imagining things, but it looks like someone splattered the hull with melted rock. The hull plating is deformed around the impact areas."

Jaina suddenly let out a whoop. "I'm picking up a short-range distress signal. Kyp, Miko, can you help triangulate it?"

"We hear it," Kyp replied. "I'll send you my data."

"Copy that," Miko added. "Transmitting now."

After a brief search to find the lone pod in the middle of the wreckage field, Tenel Ka deftly pulled the transport to within a hundred meters of the pod. Lowbacca snagged it with a tractor beam and drew it in to within a meter of the port hatch, then set up a forcefield tunnel between the ship's hatch and the pod hatch.

Several minutes later, lightsaber at the ready, Jacen knocked on the pod's hatch, and was greeted by a weak knock from the other side. The hatch slowly began to hiss open, and Jacen wrinkled his nose at the stench from inside. He counted six people inside the pod, and began dragging them into the passenger lounge. Once the pod had been emptied, he closed the ship's hatch behind him and Lowbacca jettisoned the now-useless escape pod.

"Thank you," one of the men said weakly after downing several full glasses of water. "We were beginning to think we'd never be rescued..."

"No problem," Jacen replied. "I'm Jacen Solo, Jedi Knight. Where are you guys from?"

"Garqi," the man replied. "Name's Ragle." He gestured around at the others sitting on the acceleration couch. "Coda, Lancam, Opardi, Minas, and Walwitt."

"Have you been out here since the attack?"

"Yeah," Ragle replied. "How long has it been, anyway?"

"About a month. How did you manage to survive for that long?"

"Beats me. We ran out of ration bars a while ago, and the water recycling unit broke down... well, I have no idea when but it couldn't have been longer than a week."

"Can you describe the attack?"

Ragle shrugged. "From what I did see, this asteroid-ship shows up and seems to break into hundreds of pieces. Only they're not shards, they're fighters, because the next thing we know, they're shooting at us and we can't hit them for some reason. It was like our turbolaser bolts just disappeared when they got close to them."

Jaina, still standing beside her brother, frowned. "They didn't try to communicate with you?"

"Nope," Ragle replied. "And believe me, we tried. First the standard frequencies, then we just went across everything. The only things we heard were cries for help from the other ships."

"That's terrible," Jaina replied. "Well, we're going to keep searching for any more survivors. You can move around and stretch if you like, or just strap yourselves in to one of the acceleration couches."


	8. Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lorana Jinzler led _Voyager_'s command crew down one of the long corridors on D-One, staying to one side as speeder bikes raced past. They had just completed a tour of the changes on Voyager, which after a month of repairs and upgrades was covered in durasteel alloy patches and supported by an exo-skeletal framework secured to the turbolift pylons surrounding the central storage core.

The end result was a ship that only vaguely resembled the _Intrepid_-class it was at the beginning. The ribbed effect of the curved exo-skeletal girders gave the ship the appearance of a prehistoric anthropod such as a trilobite. The built-in Structural Integrity Field system had been supplemented on the outside with tensor field generators to strengthen the framework against the stresses of entering and exiting hyperspace, and relativistic shield generators had been installed to make sure that time would flow at the same rate on _Voyager_ as it did on the rest of the Outbound Flight once they entered hyperspace. All of the engineers had agreed that having any difference in the rate of time flow between the two ships would not be conductive to the health of anyone involved.

"Jedi Lorana?" a voice behind her asked. She stopped and turned around to face Tom Paris.

"Yes?"

"I heard there was some sort of space fighter aboard. Is that true?"

Lorana nodded. "Yes, there's a Delta-12 Skysprite on D-Three. Why do you ask?"

Paris gave her a slightly goofy grin. "Well, see, I've always been interested in fighters. B'Elanna and I have been working on modifying one of _Voyager_'s shuttles for a few months now to give it better performance, but that probably doesn't compare to one designed for combat from the start. Would you mind letting us see it?"

"Not at all," Lorana said as they arrived at D-One's bridge. "Who else would like to come along?"

Nobody raised their hand, so Lorana turned back to Tom. "Well, it looks like it's just you. The rest of you can stay here with the Captain or go anywhere you need to. We'll be in the hangar of D-Three."

.

.

A short walk and turbolift ride later, they arrived in D-Three's hangar and Paris let out a low whistle as he saw the Delta-12. "Man, that thing _looks_ like it's built for speed," he said, admiring its sleek lines and the red stripes that had been painted on its arrowhead-shaped hull. Apparently red paint stripes were indeed a universal concept meant to convey the fact that something was designed to go fast.

Then, as he completed his half-circle walk around the fighter, he couldn't help but notice the two huge cylinders that protruded from its aft section. "Wow... this thing must have some _serious_ power. It's practically all engine!"

Lorana nodded. "It's one of the fastest fighters made. The Jedi Order was the largest customer."

"How come there's only one?" Paris asked.

"Outbound Flight actually wasn't supposed to have any fighters," she replied. "The Jedi Council sent a Knight and his Padawan along with us to try and locate a Jedi that had gone missing in the uncharted regions of the galaxy, and they were going to use this fighter to leave before we reached the uncharted areas. The Supreme Chancellor pulled them off at one of our last navigational stops, so the fighter was left behind."

"Ah," Paris said. "Do you know how to fly it?"

Lorana laughed. "Well, I'm not a crack pilot like Anakin, but yes, I know how to fly."

Paris had an expression similar to that of a kid who's just been given free run of a candy store. "Can we take it out?"

Lorana suddenly looked uncertain. "Well... I suppose. We won't be leaving for several more hours. I'll just let Master C'baoth know so that we don't get left behind by accident."

.

.

While Lorana went to contact C'baoth, Paris walked up to the fighter and started circling it. The bubble-domed cockpit was a double-seated tandem configuration. When he walked behind the fighter again, he bent down to take a closer look at the two massive engines. At first, he'd thought they took up perhaps a quarter of the fighter's mass, but as he slid underneath the fighter he quickly realized that the turbopumps and other systems extended for almost the full length of the fighter. They had to be at least half of its mass.

He pushed himself back from underneath the fighter, rolled over, and picked up one knee so that he could get back on his feet.

"Master C'baoth's given us an hour," Lorana suddenly said from behind him, making him jump and hit his head on a protruding baffle. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

Tom grimaced and gingerly rubbed the back of his head. "It's OK, I think it'll wear off."

"Here, allow me," she said as she gently placed her hand on the back of his head. The pain vanished the instant that her hand made contact, much to Tom's amazement.

"What did you do?"

"Just a simple Jedi healing technique," Lorana replied. "Anyway, let's not waste time. I'll help you get into the cockpit."

.

.

Elsewhere, Captain Kathryn Janeway rolled over on her biobed as if she had just awoken, and looked at the time. She nodded, propped herself up on one elbow, and looked around the Sickbay. It was empty, which was to be expected considering that they had not been attacked by anybody.

This was a routine she had rehearsed for nearly a month now, since they had confined her to Sickbay in the first place. And as far as she was concerned, it was insanely simple.

She tossed her legs over the side of the bed, and dragged an LCARS console toward herself. Switching it on, she accessed the crew roster and glanced at her own profile. No changes had been made to it.

Her next step was to access a section of the computer that seemed completely innocuous and did not appear to be connected to anything. While she was working her way thought a particular sequence of commands, however, her thumb slipped and activated the wrong thing.

The LCARS terminal beeped, the same volume as it had for all of her commands. However, to her the beep seemed to echo throughout Sickbay. She grimaced at the error, and focused even harder on the console.

The sequence was entered once again, more carefully this time. It took a bit more time, but as long as nobody called Sickbay for advice from the Doctor, she was perfectly fine. Finally, she smiled at her work: the LCARS terminal now displayed a detailed list of options. After looking the options over, she selected one and waited.

It worked perfectly.

Her biometric profile was now associated with that of a nonexistent ensign.

Janeway let out a deep sigh, one that sounded as if it had been pent up for several weeks, and perhaps it was. It didn't really matter; she stood up and stretched, listening to the joints in her spine crack. Then she walked toward the exit.

Or at least tried to.

Am all-too-familiar voice behind her spoke. "Are you perhaps going somewhere, Captain?"

Janeway spun around in reaction to the Doctor's sudden appearance.

"Captain," his voice took on a note of annoyance, "I did give specific orders that you were to remain here until I released you from my care."

Janeway dove to the floor as the Doctor suddenly brought a sedative hypospray toward her. As she did so, her elbow slammed into the hard surface of the deck, causing her to grimace in pain; she tried her best to ignore it, stretching out her heel to trip the Doctor. His illusory foot passed right through hers, and as she leaned backwards to avoid the hypospray she fell over the biobed, landing in an awkward heap on the floor.

_ It's so easy to forget he's a hologram_, she realized as she picked herself back up. There wasn't even any point to trying to fight him.

"Computer, end program."

The Doctor disappeared, and promptly she began running toward the exit...

Only to have him re-appear in front of her path.

"Computer-" This time, he did not allow her to complete her sentence as he advanced, still holding the hypospray. She backed up, crashing into a tool cart as she did.

"End program!"

The Doctor didn't pause before he spoke. "I have isolated myself from the main computer, Captain."

"Thanks for telling me," she sarcastically retorted. "Computer-"

Janeway cut her sentence short and rolled sideways as the Doctor forcefully thrust his hypospray toward her again. She came up on the other side of the cart and grabbed it, using it as shield between herself and the Doctor.

"Cut all-"

He again thrust the hypospray toward her. This time, she grabbed the hypospray-that was the only part that _wasn't_ holographic, after all-and thrust it away from herself. She heard the distinctive hissing as he activated it, but thankfully the drug only went into the air.

"-power to-"

She dodged another thrust with the hypospray, madly looking around Sickbay to see if there was something that she could use as a weapon. Her quick search only turned up several pillows.

"-Sickbay!" she finished. The lights promptly went out, but she could still see the Doctor, who faintly glowed in the absence of light.

_Crap_, she thought. But there was no time to contemplate her mistake, as she observed the Doctor come at her again. She grabbed a nearby pillow and flung it the approaching hologram, momentarily causing him to pause as the polyester projectile passed harmlessly through him. She started running in the darkened Sickbay-

-and ran straight into a biobed, knocking herself off her feet and dazing her for a moment.

The Doctor continued his pace toward her, the ever-present hypospray still in his hand. "Captain, may I suggest you return to your unit before you inflict further harm on yourself? It is difficult enough handling a psychological emergency."

Kathryn ignored his cautions and picked up a nearby medical cart with as much effort as she could muster. She then spun it around as fast as was possible, hitting the hypospray in his outstretched arm and sending it flying.

While the Doctor looked down at his empty hand in curiosity, she dashed out of Sickbay.

.

.

As Tom climbed into the rear cockpit seat of the Delta-12, he was amazed at how much the cockpit looked like a higher-tech version of one of the World War II fighters that he admired so much. It even had a flight stick in the center!

"Put your headband on," Lorana instructed him from the seat in front. "We won't be able to hear each other unless that's in place; it's kind of loud in here."

Tom looked at the panels on either side and finally saw where the headband was hanging. He picked it up and, after a moment trying to figure out where it went, put it on his head.

"All right, I'm starting the warm-up sequence. Are you all strapped in?"

Tom looked down and noticed that he was sitting on a harness. He moved and pulled the harness out, then began buckling the five different straps into the center connector and pulled them tight. "I am now," he acknowledged.

"Great. Hangar control's given us clearance to move out."

The fighter picked up off the floor of the hangar with a slight whine as its systems ran up to full power, and then glided out through the containment field into open space.

"I love the visibility in this thing," Tom remarked as he looked all around them. "It almost feels like we're right out in space."

"Here, I'll pull around and get us a better look at _Voyager_," Lorana said as she swung the fighter around rapidly.

.

.

The Doctor snapped back up in time to see Janeway exit the Sickbay. He briefly calculated the outcomes of pursuing his patient, but decided against it. Although a flying medical cart could not do him any lasting damage due to his ethereal nature, it was quite annoying.

Besides, it wasn't like he was the only being on _Voyager_. He accessed the central computer, noting that there were three security officers on Deck 5, then switched on the ship-wide paging system.

.

.

Janeway was stepping into a turbolift just as the Doctor's announcement came over the speakers.

"Attention all personnel. This is the Chief Medical Officer speaking. Kathryn Janeway has attacked me and escaped Sickbay. She is seriously ill and needs to be returned at once."

She cursed silently and hit the control panel rather than using voice commands. The doors slid shut, blocking off the view of the corridor beyond, and there was the briefest of sensations as the pod began moving. It seemed like only several seconds had passed before the doors opened again. She cautiously and quietly stepped into the corridor, walking down it as softly as possible toward the door at the far end. Again, Janeway worked the control panel, and was rewarded as it slid open in response to her thumbprint.

She peeked around the door and then ducked into the shuttlebay, pausing to grab a hand phaser out of a storage locker. Once she had made sure that nobody was present in the shuttlebay, she looked at the deck.

After five years spent traveling through the Delta Quadrant, there was just one shuttle left. B'Elanna and Tom had managed to piece it together over the past several months from one of their wrecked Type-11 shuttlecraft, some of the few remaining spare parts and scavenged components from alien ships. Whatever was left had been fabricated using the ship's industrial replicator, although it had been hard for her to sign off on such a large expenditure of their precious antimatter supplies.

_At least we won't have to worry about that now,_ she mused before cutting that train of thought off. _How can we trust them to take us home? They wanted to bolt our ships together which would make us absolutely helpless and defenseless... They could take us back to their own part of the galaxy and we wouldn't be able to do a thing about it._

She shook her head sadly as her hand ran over the name that Tom had painted on the side of the shuttle. _Delta Flyer_... They hadn't even been able to properly christen it because she had changed course to investigate the Outbound Flight.

Janeway was startled by banging at the entrance, and realized that she needed to get out before they overrode the lock. She slapped the _Delta Flyer_'s hatch release, then jumped in as soon as it was open wide enough for her to fit through. As soon as she was inside, she sealed the panel and locked it from outside access.

When she reached the cockpit, she realized that she had just made it in time as Tuvok and a number of supernumeraries poured into the hangar, compression rifles drawn.

With a sense of urgency, she began activating the shuttle's systems, praying silently that they hadn't overlooked any leaks in the hull or anything else that might cause a catastrophic failure. Then she sat down in the pilot's chair and reached for the touchpad to actually take the shuttle out... and discovered that there wasn't one.

"Leave it to Tom to build a shuttle that only he could fly," she muttered to herself as she wrapped her hand around the joystick. "Now... how does this thing work?"

Experimentally, she eased the joystick forward, and was rewarded as the nose of the hovering shuttle pitched forward, crashing off the deck plates and startling the security officers.

"Captain, your actions are highly irrational and are unlikely to have a positive outcome," Tuvok's always calm voice echoed over the comm. "I suggest you power the shuttle down and come out to talk to us."

She sighed and completely ignored him. _I need to talk to Chakotay, not you_. At least she might be able to talk some reason into her first officer... but if Tuvok had made up his mind, it would be almost impossible to convince him otherwise.

"Computer, open the shuttlebay doors."

As the doors began grinding their way open, Tuvok spun around before tapping his commbadge again. "Captain, I must strongly recommend you cease your current course of action."

"I can't do that, Tuvok." _Just a few more meters..._

"Computer, seal the shuttlebay, authorization Tuvok Lambda Seven Alpha."

In a panic, she slammed the throttle forward, spinning the _Delta Flyer_ sideways with the stick while the doors ground to a stop. A moment later, the shuttle lurched as its wingtips scraped between the doors, and then she was out in open space.

Now the only question was where the hangar on D-1 was. Although they'd beamed out of it, she never really had a good idea where it was located. Janeway tapped at the sensor controls, trying to figure out which one of the five attached ships was D-1. Unfortunately they all looked identical, so she took a wild guess and plotted a course for the nearest one.

As she pulled about to line up the _Delta Flyer_ with the Dreadnaught's hangar, a small, dagger-shaped craft suddenly came barreling out of the hangar and the _Flyer_'s panel went wild with alarms.

"Warning. Collision imminent."

.

.

"What the hell?" Tom exclaimed as Lorana yanked on the controls and the Skysprite skimmed just below the _Delta Flyer_. "That's _my_ ship!"

"Your ship?" Lorana asked, slightly confused, as she put the Skysprite into a banking turn to follow the odd-looking craft.

"That's the shuttle I was telling you about, the one I've been working on for a few months now!" Tom exclaimed. "Someone must have stolen it!"

"Are you sure it's not just being used to move something?" Lorana asked.

"Absolutely," Tom replied. "It's not quite finished, and the controls are more like the ones in this fighter than the touchpads that standard Starfleet shuttles use. I'm the only one who really knows how to handle it." He was boiling mad now. "If they so much as scratch the paint..."

"Let me see if I can open a channel," Lorana suggested. "Let's see... I think these are the frequencies and codecs you guys use..." she murmured, more to herself than to Tom. "_Delta Flyer_, this is Jedi Knight Lorana Jinzler in the starfighter behind you. Identify yourself. Over."

When no reply came to her hail, she repeated it again on a different frequency, to no effect. She decided to try again.

"_Delta Flyer_, this is Jedi Knight Lorana Jinzler. If you do not acknowledge, I will be forced to open fire. Over."

In the rear cockpit, Paris blanched. "Hey, I don't want my ship destroyed!"

"Relax," Lorana replied. "I'm just going to fire a couple of warning shots ahead of it. Maybe that'll get their attention."

.

.

Janeway flinched as red bolts suddenly exploded in front of her, causing the _Delta Flyer_ to shake as it flew through what appeared to be plasma bursts.

"Shit," she muttered. There was no way she was going to shake her tail off in time to get to the Outbound Flight. Except... She grabbed the joystick and pulled hard to the right, sending the modified shuttle on a course toward the system's asteroid field.

"Warning. You are entering an asteroid field. The odds of destruction are greatly increased," the computer replied in a nauseatingly bland tone.

"Shut up," Janeway snapped. It complied, thankfully. The less distractions she had, the better; now, she concentrated on shaking the other shuttle that had pasted itself to her tail. Absentmindedly, she wondered why they didn't try to attack her.

She pushed down on the joystick, watching the old-fashioned attitude dials spin around like crazy, and looped around a large, slowly spinning asteroid. For a brief second, she thought that she had shaken the strange craft, but it immediately imitated her move and was back in pursuit.

.

.

"They must be insane!" Paris exclaimed as the _Delta Flyer_ dodged between several rocks. Lorana matched the move, and was rewarded as the fighter was peppered by a shower of dust kicked up by the _Flyer_'s impulse thrusters.

"Hang on," Lorana said as she dialed up the inertial dampeners. While she needed to keep a feel for the fighter's movement, she didn't need Paris hurling his lunch at the back of her head.

"Watch it," Paris warned as a fairly large asteroid spun into their path. The Jedi was turning the ship almost before the words came out of his mouth; in front of them, the Delta Flyer vanished from view behind another large asteroid. "They went that way."

"I saw," Lorana snapped, quietly thanking the Force that this was a relatively slow-moving asteroid field. Even so, it was not without its dangers as a half meter-wide rock clipped one of the wings, making her shield indicators flash red briefly and sending the fighter into a slight spin.

.

.

Janeway glanced down at the controls, then back to the asteroid field. Her brilliant plan was starting to look like a very bad idea now. Trying to pilot the _Flyer_ through the field was very tiring as well, and she was getting jittery as her body demanded coffee.

"Computer, can you get a transporter lock on the Outbound Flight hangar?" she asked.

"Affirmative," the computer replied as cheerfully as ever.

Gripping the joystick, she spun the _Flyer_ about to squeeze through two asteroids that were about to hit. There was a slight screech as one of the asteroids made contact, but no alarms went off and she let out a breath of relief.

.

.

"Kriff," Lorana suddenly exclaimed as she pulled the fighter up hard. "They're not going to get out of that one."

"What do you mean?" Paris asked, craning his neck to try and get a good look at the _Delta Flyer_.

"Watch," she replied. "Those asteroids are going to close at the end. They're not going to have anywhere to maneuver."

To Paris, the field still looked wide open. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Lorana said. "Watch, it's going to happen right now."

Uncannily, the asteroids were indeed moving together, forming an almost solid wall of rock directly in the path of the _Delta Flyer_.

"Shit!" Tom exclaimed as the _Delta Flyer_ crashed nose-first into the largest asteroid, splintering the tough carbonaceous rock into millions of insignificant pieces before the shuttle's antimatter tanks ruptured. The ensuing explosion blossomed out, engulfing hundreds of nearby asteroids in gamma rays and superheated plasma. The Delta-12 bucked slightly as it ran into the shockwave, and Paris saw, out of the corner of his eye, the shield indicators briefly flash red again.

He swore under his breath as he watched the explosion dissipate. "I could have _killed_ whoever did that... Do you have any idea how much work I put into that ship! Sonofa..."

It took a good several minutes for the swearing to stop.


	9. Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

Jaina nearly put her fist through the comm panel, but thought better of it. "It's the third time," she complained, "and I still haven't heard anything from ExGal 4." After picking up the convoy's survivors, they had dropped them off at one of the few major spaceports in the sparsely-populated sector before continuing on to Belkadan.

"What about the scan?" Jacen asked from the rear of the cockpit.

"One humanoid lifesign, and not much of anything else." Jaina turned around in her chair, frustration obvious on her face. "So, what do we do now?"

As he put his boots up on a side console and leaned back, Jacen shrugged. "Knock harder?"

"I guess that could work." Jaina spun back around, immediately reaching for the controls. Then, as if something had stung her, she pulled back. "Hang on. Is the atmosphere even breathable?"

The cockpit was silent, save for the hum of computers, for a long moment. "Yes," Tenel Ka eventually said. "Marginally. There's a lot of carbon dioxide, methane, and sulfur dioxide floating around. There are also intense storms raging across the planet, although none are near the station so far. The situation seems to be calming down, however, and according to the computer the atmosphere should be back at normal levels in another month or so."

"So you're saying that it smells like a cesspool. Wonderful."

Jaina looked at him with an incredulous expression. "What are you talking about?"

"Nevermind. Just page Kyp and tell him that we're going in. He'll probably want to come as well."

She checked some settings on the panel. "Sounds good to me," she said as she reached overhead and turned on the comm. "Rock Dragon to Avenger Leader. Kyp, there hasn't been any response, so we're going to land and take a look. What are your plans?"

The comm was silent for a moment as Kyp talked to his squadron mates. "I'll come with you. Miko and the rest of the squadron will stay in orbit and keep us informed of anything."

"Will do," she acknowledged, switching the comm to standby and grabbing the yoke. The Hapan transport responded immediately, diving into into Belkadan's atmosphere at a shallow attitude. Less than a minute later, they were skimming over the treetops-or rather, what was left of them.

There was a slight stir as Jacen stood up in the back of the cockpit and walked forward so as to get a better view. "Blaster bolts!" he exclaimed as soon as he saw the jungle. "I knew the 3GS data was out of date, but I had no idea it was _this_ bad..." 3GS stood for the Third Galactic Survey, which had been conducted toward the later years of the Old Republic just before the Clone Wars.

"There's ExGal 4," Tenel Ka stated, her arm pointing to a rapidly growing speck on the horizon. "We'll worry about the jungle after we land. Lowie, anything on the short-range scanners yet?"

By the time the Wookiee barked a negative and waited for Em Tedee to translate it, the _Rock Dragon_ was already circling over the science station as Jaina attempted to find a suitable landing zone. The search didn't take very long, and soon thereafter both ships had touched down on what passed for a landing pad.

As the landing ramp unfolded, Jacen was the first one down, holding his lightsaber in one hand just in case there was any wildlife looking for a quick snack. However, it wasn't wildlife that assaulted him. It was the _smell_.

"Phew. It's like rotten vegetables," Jaina remarked for him as she came right behind him on the ramp.

"No kidding." He stepped onto the stresscrete pad, looking down when he heard his boots crunching on something. The ground was covered evenly with small, rounded, two-centimeter brown objects that looked like surprisingly uniform pebbles. He picked one up and turned it over in his gloved hands. "Check this out. Looks like these are-"

Jacen was interrupted by a loud bellow from Lowie, which was promptly followed up by a remark from Em Tedee. "A pity that you can't shut off your olfactory sensors."

The Wookiee snorted and chuffed something in response.

"What? No, you wouldn't do that. Would you?"

Lowie grabbed the small translator with a meaty paw and held it up to his face, then bared his fangs in a slight grin.

"I see your point," Em Tedee said in a rather humiliated tone. "Can you put me back now?"

The Wookiee did so, then strode across the pad to where Kyp was lowering his R6 astromech. The other Jedi were already gathered there and talking.

"I wonder what happened to this jungle," Jacen was saying. "I mean, we've got these dead beetles strewn all over the place, and everything else seems pretty dead to me."

"The person inside ExGal 4 might be able to answer that," Kyp said, turning as Lowie approached. "Good, we're all here. Lowie, would you mind taking R6 here back to your transport and staying there to alert us in case Miko finds something?"

Lowie bellowed a 'yes,' then walked back to the ship with R6 in tow as the other Jedi went for the nearest entrance to ExGal 4.

"Well, this would explain why they couldn't hear us," Jaina observed as they stopped in front of a fallen communications tower. "Completely sm... wait, there's someone trapped under it! Help me get it off."

Several lightsaber strokes later, they rolled the top of the tower off the body, which was wearing a badly torn envirosuit. Jacen gingerly reached down and pulled the hood off the body, revealing a crushed skeleton that was covered in more of the dead beetles.

"I wonder how long he's been there for," Jacen said, grimacing. "And whoever's inside didn't even come out and check... some teamwork."

"Maybe he couldn't get the tower off," Tenel Ka remarked, fingering her rancor-tooth lightsaber. "Or else whatever hit this planet made him stay inside."

By now the group had reached the door, and Kyp pressed the control panel to no avail. "Security lockout," he remarked, distaste obvious on his face.

Then the heavy door slid open. Standing behind it was a black-haired human male, who looked to be in his middle 30s.

"Welcome to ExGal 4," the man said in passable Basic. "I take it you're the rescue party? We've been expecting you for over a month."

Confusion momentarily flashed across Kyp's face, although he quickly recovered. "Yes, we were sent by the Extragalactic Society when they received your distress call. It seems we came too late, however."

"Too late for Tomri or the rest of the station crew, perhaps," the man said as he gestured to the body lying next to the tower. "But I am still alive."

'_He didn't even seem to care about Tomri_,' Jacen thought.

"True," Kyp said, extending his hand. "But I don't believe we've been introduced yet. I'm Kyp Durron, and these are my assistants."

"Yomin Carr," the man said as he somewhat hesitantly took Kyp's outstreched hand. "A pleasure to meet you."

Kyp immediately took charge of the situation. "Can you show us around the facility so we can assess the damage?"

"Certainly," Yomin Carr replied. "Follow me." He began walking down the hallway, stopping at the first door he came to and unlocking it. "This is, or was, our hydroponics facility," he said as they stepped inside. "After the storm, one of the trees overhanging the facility fell over and smashed the upper windows. Fortunately none of the plants were attacked by those beetles."

Jacen looked around the room, which was, just as Carr had said, now open to the sky. The plants scattered around the hydroponics room were all relatively standard food-producing plants, and he didn't notice anything really abnormal about them... "The beetles, can you tell me anything about them?"

Yomin Carr shook his head. "Not much. It's possible that they mutated on this planet and then spread, doing enough damage to the environment to produce the storm that damaged this facility."

"Do you have any genetic testing equipment here?"

"No." Carr frowned. "This is an astronomical station, remember? All the scientific equipment we had was for charting extragalactic objects."

Kyp laughed. "Don't worry about Jacen too much. He's our biologist, and isn't very much into technology."

"I see," Carr replied as he noticed that Jaina was entering some information into her datapad. "As soon as you've finished the damage assessment for this room, shall we move on?"

"Sure," Jaina said, flipping the datapad shut and sliding it back into a pocket on her flight suit. "What's the next damaged room?"

"The observation lounge," Carr replied as he stepped back into the hallway and continued walking.

.

.

Meanwhile, in the _Rock Dragon_, Lowbacca paced back and forth in the cargo bay. He stopped to pick up the scratched piece of durasteel, and looked over it thoughtfully before setting it back down. It had already been fifteen minutes since the rest had left...

Lowie finally made up his mind. Attaching a comlink extender to the _Rock Dragon_'s comm panel, so he'd know if Miko tried to contact him, he stuck a comlink on his belt, gestured to Kyp's R6 to follow him, and headed down the ramp.

"Are you sure this is a wise decision?" Em Tedee warbled from his belt. Lowbacca ignored the miniature translator for the time being, going so far as to slap his paw over its grille as he approached the door. He then tried the door panel, but to no avail, and growled something.

"Lowbacca requests that you override the door's security code," Em Tedee told the R6 in a muted tone. The barrel-headed astromech trundled up, extended its data port, and plugged into the control panel. A tense moment later the door slid open.

The Wookiee grunted an inquiry under its breath, which Em Tedee then translated. A quiet reply promptly came from the R6.

"R6 says that the computer center is approximately thirty meters into the base. The other group is about fifty meters away from the computer center."

Lowie bared his fangs slightly in a feral smile and quickly strode into ExGal 4, R6 in close pursuit.

.

.

"What can you tell us about the storm?" Tenel Ka asked Yomin Carr as they left the wrecked observation lounge.

Carr shook his head. "As much as I told... ah... Jacen about the beetles. The storm started a little over a month ago on the far side of the planet. It spread rapidly, and several days after it started, several of the other scientists left in the base's airspeeder to check on its progress. When they returned, we hastily began preparing the base for the storm, but we were not fast enough. As the rest of the team took our shuttle into orbit to map out the global damage from the storm, the main comm tower was damaged. Bensin Tomri, who stayed behind with me, decided to climb up and fix it. I warned him against it, but he ignored me. The tower collapsed and I was unable to free him."

"And the shuttle?" Jaina interjected.

The scientist glared at her. "I was getting to that. I think the shuttle was damaged by the storm when it took off, because when they came back down it went out of control and burned up in the atmosphere. None of them made it as far as I could tell."

"So you basically holed up and waited for help to arrive."

"Yes," Carr replied, stopping in front of another door and unlocking it. "Now this was the communications room," he stated as they stepped inside. "All the equipment has serious acid damage, and will need to be replaced."

"Acid damage?" Jacen frowned, then sighed in realization. "Sulfur mixed with the water in the atmosphere. Of course."

"Correct," Carr replied. "But the equipment was rather old. I hope that the Extragalactic Society can bring some newer equipment."

"We'll mention it when we return," Kyp replied. "But they are on a short budget."

As Carr closed up the comm room, he continued talking. "The astronomical facilities were damaged the worst of all. The main optical telescope was completely ruined, along with the hyperspacial sensor array..."

.

.

Lowbacca warily scanned the room as R6 whirred away at the computer terminal, downloading as many of the base's records as possible. The droid paused momentarily, and an audio recording began to play.

"It's the fourth day of the storm," a woman's voice began, "and there's no sign of letting up. When we checked on the storm's progress earlier today, we got caught in it and Tee-Ubo was wounded. She sacrificed herself by giving us her oxygen pack so that we could get back to base." The woman on the recording took a breath, and Lowbacca could tell that she was in pain. "However, the sensor contact has already entered the Helska system and is approaching the fourth planet, decelerating all the time. Despite the storm, in a few minutes we're going to leave in the old shuttle and investigate. Bensin and Yomin are staying behind to watch the base, and I hope they survive the storm. Danni Quee out."

The Wookiee pondered the message as R6 continued downloading. By the time the droid finished, he had made up his mind, and left in the direction that R6 told him the rest of the Jedi were.

.

.

Yomin Carr stopped in his tracks as he saw Lowbacca and R6 approaching. "I was not informed that you had androids with you," he calmly stated.

The Jedi turned to see Lowie, who bellowed something.

"Wait a second. Why are droids a problem?" Kyp looked back at Yomin Carr.

"It was an agreement with the Extragalactic Society that this base would not have any droids, as they are an offense to my religion. So I would recommend that you immediately remove your droid from the premises."

Kyp rolled his eyes, but decided that a confrontation was not worth it. "Lowie, take R6 back to the ship, will you?"

The Wookiee barked an objection, but Kyp put up his hand. "You can tell us later. Just go."

"Thank you," Carr curtly stated as soon as Lowbacca and the droids had left.

"You're welcome," Kyp replied, not meaning it at all. "Is there any other damage that we need to know about?"

Yomin Carr shook his head. "There's minor damage all through the base, of course, but that's to be expected."

"Well, then, I guess we're done here." Kyp looked straight at Carr. "Should we take you back to ExGal headquarters or do you want to take your chances and stay here until aid arrives?"

"I will stay here. There is still some data that can be gathered despite most of the main instruments being down. Thank you for the offer, but it is unnecessary."

"In that case, we'll be on our way."

.

.

Yomin Carr allowed himself a slight smile as he watched the group return to their ships and leave. He wasn't entirely happy about the fact that they brought a droid into the station-he hadn't made up the part about droids being against his religion, but that was not what worried him. He thought he had disconnected the station's main computer, but astromechs were repair droids and known to be good at slicing.

Carr sealed the door again and walked back to his quarters, lost deep in thought. These people seemed to accept everything that he had fed them, but he still found something a little unsettling about them. Perhaps they were the Jedi that Nom Anor had warned him about?

With that thought, he reached his quarters and slid the metal door open. As soon as he'd shut the door again, he began to undress, pulling off the suffocating artificial fabric uniform that had been issued to all the ExGal scientists. He balled the uniform up and, sneering, roughly tossed it into the room's closet. Then he reached up and pressed an area to the side of his nose. For a moment, nothing happened; then there was a slight, moist, ripping sound, and his "skin" began to peel along his spine. It continued to peel off, tiny hooks unbinding themselves from his pores in a wave of excruciating pain that ran from head to toe.

He savored the pain, drank it in as if it were alchohol. Now the creature-it couldn't have been anything else-was halfway off. It continued to peel off him, now revealing his true face. Finally finished, the ooglith masquer undulated along the floor until it found its typical resting place.

Yomin Carr straightened and looked at himself in the room's mirror. Scars ran along his body, long since healed, evidence of the tortures that he had put himself through while on the Praetorite Vong worldship.

He tore his mind off his appearance, and put on a utilitarian loincloth before reaching into the closet and withdrawing a roughly head-sized pulsating creature, a villip. Setting it on his bed, Carr stroked the ridge on the front of the villip. A seam appeared in the center of the villip, which continued to invert itself until it was almost a perfect ball again. The oblong ball of the villip then took on the shape of a well-scarred face.

"Executor," Carr addressed the person who possessed the villip's twin.

"What do you have to report, Attendant?"

"A small group of humans, as well as a large alien-I believe it's called a Wookiee-visited the station today. They said they were an inspection team from the Extragalactic Society."

Nom Anor's eyes, or more correctly, the villip's rendition of his eyes, narrowed. "How many people?"

"I counted five, Executor."

Anor drew in a sharp breath. "Four humans and a Wookiee? What were the appearances of the humans? Was one a red-haired woman with only one arm?"

"Yes," Carr replied, unsure of what the Executor was thinking.

"Then we must speed up our plans dramatically. Those were _Jedi_, attendant."

"_Jeedai_?" the Praetorite Vong infiltrator inquired, slightly slurring the word. "They did not seem suspicious..."

"Jedi can mask their feelings quite well; I have dealt with them before. Are they still on the planet?"

"No, Executor. They left the landing pad several minutes ago."

"Be watchful, attendant. They may return at any time. I will contact Prefect Da'Gara and inform him of this news. He may send a coralskipper to retrieve you, or he may not."

"Understood," Carr replied before closing the villip.

.

.

"Did anyone else find anything strange about that guy?" Jacen asked as he took a seat at the rear of the cockpit. "It was... I don't know how to put it... like trying to probe a Hutt but worse."

Tenel Ka nodded. "Almost like he didn't exist as far as the Force was concerned."

"Almost," Jacen agreed. "But that gets me wondering, if the Force is in everything as Uncle Luke has said, then how can a person not exist in the Force?"

Jaina rolled her eyes. "We've discussed that before, well, sort of. How can a ysalamir live if it pushes the Force back?"

He shrugged. "Got me there."

A Wookiee roar from the rear of the ship broke through any semblance of discussion. Sighing, Jacen came to his feet and walked into the hold. "What's the matter?" he asked.

Lowbacca arfed softly, gesturing at the screen of the ship's computer, which was displaying some technical data.

"Kriff," Jacen muttered to himself as he broke out in a run back to the cockpit. "Turn around," he insisted to the surprise of his sister and Tenel Ka. "We need to go back. Now."

"Why?" the two pilots asked almost in unison.

"Because Yomin Carr lied to us."

"What?"

Jacen paused to brace himself against the doorway. "The base's shuttle didn't burn up in Belkadan's atmosphere," he explained. "Logs showed a signal from sector L-30, about eighteen parsecs Rimward. Most of the personnel left in a shuttle to investigate _that_, not the storm. So as far as we know they're still alive."

Tenel Ka reached for the comm, leaving Jaina to do the flying. "Avenger Leader, this is Tenel Ka on the _Rock Dragon_. We just received some new data from Lowbacca concerning ExGal 4."

"-copy," Kyp acknowledged, partially cut off by a burst of static. "R6 already told me. We'll discuss it with the rest of the squadron."

.

.

Predictably, the Avengers couldn't form a solid conclusion. Miko and about half of the squadron wanted to investigate. The rest, excluding Kyp (who had decided to wait before he took a side) were in favor of staying.

"Jacen," his sister began, "if you think they might still be alive, we should go to Helska immediately. Not back down there."

"But it could also be a front. We know he's alive, and we can still get information from him."

Tenel Ka nodded her approval. "And what does Lowbacca have to say?"

An excited Wookiee bellow answered the question; there was no mistaking whose side Lowbacca was on. Jacen merely smiled, to his sister's discomfort.

"Squadron's split fifty-fifty," Kyp reported over the comm. "How about you guys?"

They told him.

"Then it's settled," he remarked. "Good point, Jacen; we don't need to waste time chasing wild Gundarks."

With that conclusion the two ships, transport and starfighter, plowed back through the atmosphere at a much faster rate. This time the Jedi wasted no time on pleasantries, leaving Tenel Ka to watch the ships as they charged for the front door.

"Fused shut this time," Jacen remarked as he drew his lightsaber. He quickly sliced through the sealed door, only to find the corridor beyond crushed in rubble. "Kriff."

"Master Lowbacca suggests that we find a back door," Em Tedee translated from his position on the Wookiee's utility belt.

"What a novel idea," Jacen dryly remarked as he shut down his lightsaber and clipped it back on his belt, running to catch up with the rest of the group. They were almost halfway around the station by the time he did.

The sight that greeted the group as they neared the back door was, to put it mildly, gruesome. An astromech droid leaned against the back wall, its dome crudely removed and a human skull in the dome's place.

"My goodness," a tinny voice erupted after it could see the destroyed astromech.

"What kind of maniac does _that_?" Jaina inquired, thoroughly revolted.

"Same kind of maniac that I suspect we'll find inside," Kyp answered. "So much for his claims of ExGal agreeing to not have droids in the station."

This time Jaina stepped up to the door and tried the controls. "Locked as well."

Lowbacca arfed something, which Em Tedee reluctantly translated. "Master Lowbacca suggests interfacing me to the door controls."

"Alright, then, get up here."

Em Tedee floated off Lowbacca's belt on his repulsorlift cushion. "I must protest being used in this manner," the small droid complained despite knowing the uselessness of the complaint as Jaina hooked him up. Moments later the door slid open.

"Sithspit!" Jaina exclaimed as she involuntarily took a step away from the door. In her startled state, she forgot about the stairs leading to the door and lost her balance, landing in Kyp's arms.

Standing just beyond the door frame was a roughly humanoid creature, almost exactly two meters tall-_the same height as Yomin Carr_, Jacen thought. In the alien's hand was a snakelike staff, and tatoos covered its body from head to toe. Upon seeing Jaina's discomfiture, it gave what might have been the equivalent of a snort, although Jacen wondered how that was possible given the lack of a normal nose on the alien.

"I did not know that you_ jeedai_ were so characteristically clumsy," the alien remarked in Yomin Carr's voice. Then it leapt into action, snakelike staff stiffening and swinging as if it were a lightsaber.

Four humming lightsabers, each a different color, greeted the hissing staff. Jacen, now the nearest to Yomin Carr, swung his saber into the path of the hissing serpent-and was surprised when the living creature deflected his saber as if it were another lightsaber.

"What the..." was all he had time to say before he ducked into a roll, and the creature's staff bit into the wall behind where he had been standing. Now he was inside ExGal 4, but so was Carr. There was an electronic screech, and the wires that connected Em Tedee were broken by the staff while Jacen was distracted; the droid went flying back into the clearing before it could regain control with its repulsors.

The door slammed shut, leaving Jacen standing opposite Yomin Carr. As the tip of a lightsaber poked through one corner of the blast door, Carr sprung into action again, hammering at Jacen with a flurry of blows that put the Jedi firmly on the defensive. The Jedi found himself hard pressed to keep up, feeling rather disoriented around the alien, and after perhaps two minutes had passed his guard faltered; he felt something strike his left heel, and he fell backwards.

Before he could react, Carr was standing over him, armored foot standing on his lightsaber arm, strange staff pointing at his throat. "Too easy," the alien gloated, and drew his staff back for a killing blow-

Which was stopped by a glowing bronze blade. Lowbacca bared his fangs at the alien warrior before applying more force to his blade, driving Carr back. Jaina ran over to help her brother while Kyp joined in the attack with Lowie.

"Are you all right?" she asked, helping Jacen to his feet.

He winced as a starburst of pain seemed to spread from his heel. Whatever the staff was had torn through his thick boot as if it didn't exist. "I think it might have been poisoned."

"Then get back to the ship," she warned him.

"I'll try." He leaned back against a wall, trying to recover enough strength in that leg to limp back to the ship while Jaina charged into battle. As the battle raged on, Jacen focused on halting the flow of the poison before it did any more damage. He already couldn't feel anything below his knee, and as he shifted weight in preparation to walk out the door, his ankle folded and he collapsed with a groan. _So much for that idea_, he thought as he started crawling.

Now outnumbered, it was only a matter of minutes before the three Jedi brought Yomin Carr down. Bring him down they did; he croaked and fell as a lightsaber punched through his shoulder armor.

"Who are you really?" Kyp demanded, his lightsaber pointed at the alien's face.

Yomin Carr managed to contort his broken and bleeding face into something that resembled a grin. "The beginning of your end," he managed as his hand twitched imperceptibly toward the staff, which was lying only a few centimeters away. The staff instantly responded, softening and becoming more snake-like. Its head coiled upward, and before Jaina or any of the other Jedi could react, it spat a blob of venom toward her face. She started to dodge to the side, but with no warning from the Force her reaction time wasn't fast enough.

The venom splashed across her right eye and cheek, burning like acid. She instantly recoiled, using a gloved hand to wipe most of the venom off her face.

Before it could cause any more damage, Lowbacca rapidly stepped over and in one smooth swing beheaded the now soft staff. At the same time, Kyp moved his lightsaber closer to Carr's exposed face.

"You will tell us who you employed you," he said in a very serious tone, "_now_."

Yomin Carr managed to choke out a laugh. "I know enough to tell you that your vaunted _Jeedai_ powers are useless against me."

Kyp didn't flinch. "Tell us."

The alien said no more. Sighing, Kyp turned to Lowbacca. "Lowie, bind him while I make sure he doesn't try anything. We'll have to bring him with us."

As the Wookiee reached for the binders that hung on his belt, Kyp spotted Carr's other arm moving toward a bandolier on his chest. He swung the lightsaber to intercept it, cutting off the hand. The arm thumped down on top of the bandolier weakly as dark blood spurted out.

Kyp's eyes widened. "Stand back!" he warned as he took a leap backwards. Moments later, the bandolier exploded, scattering Yomin Carr's remains all over the room. Kyp wiped some dark blood off his face. "So much for interrogation," he sighed.

"Was that the same person who gave us the tour?" Jaina asked in a tone that suggested she'd seen better days. Already she had torn off part of her jumpsuit and used it to wipe the venom off her face.

"Apparently so," Kyp replied as he turned toward her. He noticed that her right eye was tearing; a stream of clear fluid escaped and trickled down Jaina's cheek. "How badly did it hurt you?"

She shrugged. "It burned pretty bad, and I'm having some trouble seeing out of this eye."

Kyp nodded. "All right, let's get back to our ships and patch you guys up. Then we can tear this station apart to see what really happened."

.

* * *

.

When Lorana landed the Delta-12 in D-One's hangar, Tom was surprised to find about a dozen security officers and one of the Jedi standing around in the middle of the hangar deck. Once the canopy had opened, he jumped out and began walking over to the group with Lorana.

"What's going on, Master Helsani?" Lorana asked as she approached the Jedi.

He turned to regard the two new arrivals. "Captain Janeway materialized here a couple minutes ago and began shouting about how she needed to talk to Commander Chakotay. We've restrained her until the Commander arrives.

"Wasn't she supposed to be in sickbay on Voyager?" Tom asked. "How did she get out?"

"I'm not sure," Helsani replied. "She has not been very forthcoming."

Tom frowned. "Huh. Mind if I talk to her?"

The Jedi shrugged. "Sure, go ahead." He waved to the security officers, who cleared a path for him to walk through.

As he approached, he noticed several cuts and scrapes on her hands and forehead. "What's going on, Captain?"

"Thank goodness you're OK, Tom!" she exclaimed. "I wanted to come over here to warn Chakotay not to negotiate. Has he already signed anything?"

Tom frowned. "Yes, we have an agreement for them to tow us to Earth. We'll be leaving in about an hour."

"Have they taken any blood samples from you?"

He drew back and narrowed his eyes. "No... why?"

"Nevermind," she quickly said. "I think we're all in danger. I started flying over here but a fighter from this ship started shooting and drove me into an asteroid field-"

"That was YOU?" Tom exclaimed. He lunged for her, colliding and knocking her to the ground. "I-" he grabbed her collar, "can't-" pulled her head toward him and stared straight into her stunned eyes, "believe you would be that stupid!"

Strong arms grabbed from behind and pulled him off the shocked Captain. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I was on that fighter!" he shouted. "We were trying to hail you but you didn't respond! Those were just warning shots, we weren't trying to hit you!"

She stared back at him, dumbfounded, as the security officers pulled her to her feet and held her opposite Tom.

"Captain, Lieutenant, what the hell is all this about?" Chakotay demanded, having entered the circle during the altercation.

"She-"

"You're-"

"stole-"

"all-"

"my-"

"in-

"-ship!"

"-danger!"

Chakotay held up a hand. "One at a time, please! Captain, you first."

"You're in danger," she repeated. "They've tricked all of you!"

He regarded her with an incredulous expression. "Captain, with all due respect, we've been working together for weeks now on repairing _Voyager_ to depart for Earth. This is our best chance at getting out of this goddamned quadrant, and you want us to just abort now? I think you've completely lost it." He turned to Tom. "Lieutenant, I hope you understand that although Captain Janeway is temporarily suspended of her rank, attacking any superior officer is still insubordination. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Tom looked down at the gleaming black metal deck. "Jedi Jinzler offered to let me ride in a fighter craft they had here. While we were out flying, we saw the _Delta Flyer_ come blasting out of _Voyager_'s shuttlebay. It didn't respond to our hails, so Lorana fired a couple of warning shots ahead of it. The pilot took it into an asteroid field where it was destroyed." He pointed to Janeway. "She just admitted she was the one flying it."

Chakotay turned back to the Captain. "Is that true?"

She nodded.

He frowned slightly. "Aren't you supposed to be in Sickbay?"

"I thought it was more important to warn you," she replied.

Chakotay reached up and began to massage his temples. "I assume, then, that you did not have the Doctor's, _or_ Tuvok's, permission to leave, much less fly over here." He dropped his hands back down. "I don't even know how many lives you risked pulling your little stunt! Then you wrecked the only working shuttlecraft we had left. Do you understand now why the Doctor removed you from command?"

When she didn't reply, he looked down at his wristwatch. "Well, I don't have time to take you back to Voyager. Master Helsani, would you mind having your men escort the Captain to the brig so we can sort this out later?"

The Jedi Master nodded and the security officers snapped binders onto Janeway's hands before leading her off. Chakotay watched the scene for a few moments and then turned to Tom.

"You know, I do understand why you're upset. I'd be pretty upset too if I spent months building something only to have her trash it... in fact, that's almost what I felt like when she wanted us to walk away from this the first time.

"But that doesn't excuse you from _attacking_ Captain Janeway, even if she's not technically in command right at the moment. She is still a captain in Starfleet unless Starfleet Command decides otherwise, and striking a superior officer is still insubordination.

Chakotay looked up at Tom, then nodded in the direction of the containment field at the edge of the hangar. The two began walking toward it, away from where the rest of the people were congregated.

"Having said that," Chakotay said with the slightest hint of humor, "I've been waiting for someone to go off on her like that for a _long_ time. You have _no_ idea how it feels to deal with a captain who is always right, even if she's wrong."

Tom gave the commander a confused look. "So what does that mean for me?"

Chakotay seemed to consider the question for a few long moments. "I'm going to consider this talk we've had your reprimand. To show I'm serious, I'm going to temporarily demote you back to Ensign, and make you spend the rest of the trip back in the brig. When we get home, Starfleet is going to go over this mess with a fine-toothed comb regardless, and I doubt they're going to be very sympathetic with any of us given that we were Maquis."

"I see," Tom replied. "You don't want to look like you're playing favorites."

The commander shrugged. "I don't think I am, but what they think is another story. I just hope they see the big picture here."

"What, that we managed to successfully have first contact with explorers from another galaxy?" Tom asked. "I'd say that's a pretty big accomplishment."

"True," Chakotay mused. "I really don't know how to expect Starfleet Command to react. I mean, I did take a pretty big chance trusting the Jedi. Let's hope it pays off."

Tom nodded. "So... are you going to send me to the brig right now?"

Chakotay shook his head. "I figured that you should at least see us start the trip home. Besides, you're not going to go crazy and attack me, are you?"

"No."

"Then let's go to the bridge and see what happens."

While they were walking back, Chakotay's commbadge chirped and he tapped it. "Chakotay here."

"Commander, this is Tuvok. Janeway escaped in the _Delta Flyer_ about twenty minutes ago. We saw that it was destroyed shortly after, although there was a transporter signature targeted at the ship you're on. What happened?"

It only took a few minutes for Chakotay to explain the situation to Tuvok, and by the time he had finished they had already arrived on the command deck of D-One.

Not wanting to get in the way of anyone, Tom stayed toward the rear of the bridge. Meanwhile, Chakotay and Lorana walked forward to where Master C'baoth was standing and overseeing final preparations.

"So there was an accident?" C'baoth asked as they walked up.

Chakotay nodded. "Captain Janeway escaped from our sickbay and took one of our shuttles. Jedi Jinzler here tried to stop her, but Janeway went into the asteroid field and managed to destroy the shuttle."

"I see." C'baoth turned his gaze back to the crew working in the pits. "From your demeanor, I assume nobody was hurt. Is your ship ready?"

"Yes," Chakotay replied.

"Good." C'baoth swept his gaze around the bridge. "Final countdown will be starting shortly. You will be staying here for the first jump?"

He nodded again, and waited for the countdown to begin. Fortunately, the wait wasn't very long, and he listened to the automated countdown with mild interest, walking forward to look at the viewscreens that wrapped around the perimeter of the command deck. When the countdown reached zero, there was a quiet rumbling noise and the faint stars he could see out the screens suddenly turned to streaks, then were replaced moments later with an odd swirling tunnel of bluish light. Barely a minute later, the tunnel dissolved back into pinpoints of light.

"First jump successful," one of the techs in the pit announced. "D-Two through D-Five report no major equipment failures. D-Six remote slave circuits operating nominally. Plotting jump coordinates. Estimated time to next jump in two minutes and thirty-seven seconds."

The countdown clocks on the command deck changed to reflect the new time, and as Chakotay walked back to where C'baoth stood, he tapped his commbadge. "Chakotay to Voyager, please report status."

"All systems normal," Tuvok's voice came back a moment later. "Warp core still offline, impulse reactors operating at high efficiency. The sensor data we retrieved during the hyperspace jump was quite interesting."

Chakotay smiled. "Well, I'm sure that will keep Seven busy during the trip home."

"Indeed. Tuvok out."

.

.

The second jump started off as uneventful as the first, but when the countdown to reversion reached the halfway mark, the ship seemed to lurch, the sky of hyperspace was replaced with a dizzily spinning starfield, and alarms began ringing all over the command deck.

"What happened?" Chakotay asked.

"Gravity-well alarm," Captain Avin replied. "Designed to shut the hyperdrive down before the ship is catastrophically damaged." He took a step forward and looked down into the pit. "Status?"

"Trying to re-establish contact with D-Six, Captain," one of the techs replied.

"Do we have any idea where they are?"

"No, Sir. They could be light-years away. We're looking right now."

"Captain," Chakotay interrupted, "we might be able to help. I can have _Voyager_ scan with long-range sensors."

Avin nodded. "Thank you."

Chakotay tapped his commbadge. "Chakotay to Tuvok, come in."

"Tuvok here," the reply came a moment later.

"I need you to scan for D-Six. We seem to have lost it during the jump. They think it could be several light-years away."

.

.

Chakotay nervously tapped his foot against the deck while he waited for a response. Finally, it came. "We have them, Commander. I'll forward the coordinates to D-One."

"Thank you," he replied.

"Don't thank me too soon," Tuvok said a moment later. "I'm also picking up large subspace distortions near D-Six."

Chakotay frowned. "Please tell me that isn't what I think it is."

There was a long pause. "It's the Borg."


	10. Nine

CHAPTER NINE

"The Borg?" Captain Avin asked, not quite sure what was going on.

Chakotay wanted to put his face in his palm, but decided it wouldn't be very professional. During the month they'd been working with the Republic crew, they hadn't really had the chance to explain that they were dangerously close to Borg space. "They're a hive-mind of cybernetic-enhanced sentients who think it's their responsibility to absorb the knowledge of everything in the universe," he blurted out. "We need to get to D-Six, _now!_"

"They sound more curious than they do dangerous," Avin remarked.

"Did I mention they absorb knowledge in a very... invasive manner?"

"Ah." Avin nodded. "Navigation, are we ready for that jump yet?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then make the jump, crewman."

"Yes, Sir."

This time, they flashed to hyperspace for only a few seconds before returning to realspace. In the distance a massive black cube dwarfed D-Six as it exchanged fire with the Dreadnaught.

Avin picked up a mic from a nearby console. "Commander Kenor, sitrep."

"Good to hear from you, Captain Avin," Kenor's feminine, slightly irritated voice came back. "I was starting to wonder if you'd ever find us out here."

"I'm touched," Avin replied sarcastically. "Anyway, our new friends wanted me to warn you that the cube you're in a slugging match with belongs to a hive-minded civilization that's on a mission to take over the universe."

"We heard," Kenor shot back. "They declared that they were the Borg, we were going to be assimilated, and resistance was futile."

"How did you reply?" Avin asked, winking at Chakotay as if to say, _Watch this_.

"We fired a full salvo. That shut them up quick. But I have to say, that ship can really soak up damage. They're repairing almost as fast as we can fire."

Avin turned to the tactical station. "Do we have a firing solution on the Borg yet?"

"Yes, Captain."

"D-One through D-Five are to use ripple fire pattern Leth-Niner-Isk. D-Six is to continue firing at targets of opportunity."

"Yes, Captain."

Chakotay watched with no small degree of surprise as the space around the Outbound Flight lit up as the Dreadnaughts cycled their turbolasers and ion cannon in rapid succession. He tapped his commbadge, thinking of anything they could do to help.

"Chakotay to the Bridge."

"Bridge here. Lieutenant Fernandez reporting, Sir."

He frowned. Wasn't Tuvok supposed to be at station right now? Or some other senior officer? "Where is Lieutenant Commander Tuvok?"

"In his quarters, Sir. He had a personal matter of some urgency, Sir."

Chakotay allowed a slight smirk to cross his face. He was well-acquainted with the feeling and apparently even Vulcans weren't immune to it either. In any case, with _Voyager_ firmly clamped onto Outbound Flight's turbolift pylons, there was no real need to keep the bridge fully staffed. "Lieutenant, how many torpedoes do we have left?"

"Six, Sir," the reply came back immediately.

He turned to Avin. "_Voyager_ has six photon torpedoes left," he offered. "We can help target the cube's weak points... well, the weakest spots it has, anyway."

Avin nodded. "Prepare a firing solution and await my command."

Chakotay relayed the instructions to Lieutenant Fernandez, taking a step backward so as not to get in the way of the chaotic symphony that seemed to be taking place around him.

A dull thud came from the ship-to-ship comm, followed a moment later by a voice. "Master C'baoth?"

Avin leaned over to Chakotay. "That's Commander Leroun on D-Three."

C'baoth, meanwhile, grabbed the mic. "This is C'baoth."

"We just lost our port turbolaser battery," Leroun reported. "The surge knocked out our forward shields, and now the crew is reporting boarders appearing all over the ship. We've deployed security personnel to contain the boarders but so far they are just looking around. Your orders?"

The Jedi Master put the mic down and turned to Chakotay. "Well, since you seem to know so much about these Borg, what do you suggest we do?"

"Don't let them get close to anything," Chakotay replied after a moment's consideration. "The Borg learn by assimilation-injecting nanomachines that can rewrite biology and technology to serve themselves."

C'baoth nodded and held the mic back up. "Commander, instruct your crew to keep their distance. You have my authorization to shoot if necessary to keep the intruders away from your crew or any control stations until we can take care of the problem."

While Leroun acknowledged, Chakotay looked at C'baoth with a slanted, incredulous frown. "What do you mean, 'take care of the problem?' The Borg are not just a problem you can easily take care of!"

C'baoth waved across the bridge, ignoring him, and moments later, Lorana walked up. "Lorana, go with Master Helsani and Master Ma'Ning to D-Three and help them eliminate the intruders. I do not want anything from this mission falling into the hands of the Borg if they are as dangerous as the Commander here insists they are."

"Of course, Master," Lorana said before turning away.

Chakotay watched her speak to the other Masters and leave the bridge before turning back to C'baoth. "What good are three Jedi going to do against a ship full of Borg?"

"Watch and learn, Commander." was the only thing that C'baoth said in reply. "Watch and learn."

.

* * *

.

The _Rock Dragon_ had much better medical facilities than the _Millennium Falcon_, one being a smuggler's freighter and the other a modified Hapan transport, Jacen reflected, but they were both equally cramped.

He sighed and turned his head to the side, noticing Tenel Ka and Lowbacca attending to his sister's eye. His own wound didn't need much, as some bacta and a simple synthflesh patch worked, but the poison had been a little more difficult. Even so, after running through some Jedi purification techniques he'd been taught, the numbness was finally leaving his leg.

It was still going to take a while to heal, he realized as he rolled over. The leg still hung limply, and it was painfully obvious that he'd be of no use in a melee. Not in his present condition, at least.

Across the room, Jaina finally sat up on another fold-out medical bed. For the time being, she wore a crude patch over her right eye. Then she came to her feet and strode over to her brother, sitting down next to him. "How's the leg feel?"

"Not like much at all," Jacen admitted. He didn't have to answer, given that as twins the two Jedi shared a sort of bond, but it was better than listening to the computers hum while the other three Jedi were off searching for anything at all in ExGal 4. "How about your eye?"

"I think I pushed out most of the venom, but there was so much of it..."

He nodded. There wasn't much that they could do for her eye with the limited facilities aboard the Hapan transport, and it would be a while before they got back to anything that remotely resembled civilization. With no person among them really trained in Jedi healing techniques, and no field medics handy, nobody was even really sure how badly Jaina's eye had been damaged by the staff's venom. "Think you'll still be able to fly?" he asked.

She snorted. "Doesn't look like I have much choice, for now at least. I'm hoping that I won't have to get a bionic eye, but..." Jaina shrugged, then stood up. Moments later she returned with a dejarik board. "I'll play you."

.

* * *

.

When the turbolift car opened on D-Three, Lorana immediately noticed the unfortunately familiar acrid, burnt smell of battle damage. Dreadnaughts had been used by the Republic's naval forces since well before she had even been born, and although most of them were incredibly crew-intensive, they had a well-deserved reputation for being able to soak up damage and keep on hitting.

Compared to D-One, which was in almost perfect condition, D-Three had suffered the worst battle damage during the ambush so many years before. It had then been repaired using materials from the storage core, but the storage core had been designed to keep fifty thousand colonists fed for about ten years' worth of hyperspace travel, and only included a limited supply of equipment for the ships. It most certainly did not have any of the thick, superconducting armor plating that comprised the outermost layer of the Dreadnaught's hull. Instead, the maintenance teams had made do by welding plates of standard durasteel alloy across the worst of the hull breaches, hoping that the small size of the breaches and the shields would prevent any further damage in the strange galaxy. Other areas, such as where the team from _Voyager_ had entered, were too far away from anything critical to be worth patching and so had simply been sealed off.

In the cargo section of the ship where the turbolift shaft was, the power was completely out and only the dim, eerie glow of emergency permalight panels lit the pathways ahead of them. The three Jedi strode along toward the command section in silence that was punctuated by the sound of electricity arcing in the distance. Occasionally the main lighting would flicker on for a moment, only to immediately die out again.

When they reached the central turbolift core, after a brief debate they opted to take the stairs since the command deck was only a few decks above. The decision was made somewhat easier due to the fact that they were able to jump from one landing up to the next.

The command deck itself was well illuminated. As they approached the bridge itself, Lorana heard the echoes of blasterfire and when the doors slid open to the bridge, she saw that the crew had barricaded themselves at one end of the bridge. In the middle about a dozen gray-skinned, metal-clad aliens of varying physiologies advanced with an odd gait on the bridge crew. Several of them were lying on the deck with gaping holes blown out of their metal plating. Now, every time a shot hit one of the aliens, a faint greenish shield flared to life around them and they continued approaching. Despite this, the bridge crew concentrated their fire on the right-most alien, who collapsed in a smoking heap after about a dozen shots converged on him.

"Now," Master Ma'Ning ordered. The aliens were barely a meter away from the barricade, and in one smooth movement the three Jedi ignited their lightsabers and made a flying leap toward the Borg.

Lorana aimed herself for the left-most intruder. In a quick, chopping motion she instantly bisected the drone and also got the attention of the nearest drones. They began to converge on her, but she rolled backward and held the saber in front of her in the classical _en garde_ stance. One of them tried to reach for her only for a quick flick of the glowing blade to dispose of that notion (and its appendage).

The two drones paused for a moment as if trying to decide how best to approach the Jedi. They separated and started walking around, apparently trying to encircle her, but she would have none of it. Her saber again flashed, severing the head of the one nearest to her, and she turned her attention to the other whole drone.

It suddenly reached out to her, but instead of slicing its arm off, she dropped and rolled, taking one of the drone's legs off at the knee as she did so. When she stood back up and turned around, it was all she could do to keep herself from laughing. The drone that had just lost its leg was hopping awkwardly, trying to keep its balance, while the headless drone was staggering forward in a drunken fashion. She waved a hand and the two drones crashed together and went down in a heap.

She looked over toward Helsani and Ma'Ning, and found them standing in the middle of a ring of dismembered drones.

"I guess you two won't be needing a hand," she remarked.

Ma'Ning smiled. "No, we have plenty of hands already," he replied, levitating a metal-encased Borg hand in front of him.

Feeling a brief flicker, she spun about and saw that the one-legged drone had crawled up to her. Another flash of the lightsaber later and the drone was now both armless and one-legged. It wriggled uselessly but was unable to move. She could have sworn that it was glaring at her with its electronic eye.

"What should we do with this one?"

Master Ma'Ning pursed his lips and studied the immobile drone. "I think that Master Hkalle would be very interested in studying it. We'll put it in one of the detention cells and let him decide."

.

* * *

.

Kyp, Lowbacca and Tenel Ka returned around a half-hour later. Each carried a crate of material except for Tenel Ka, who couldn't carry a crate and hold a lightsaber at the same time; as a result, she was bringing up the rear.

"Here," Kyp said as he tossed a couple of medpacks at the twins. "I think these ought to be useful."

Jaina frowned. "You looted the base?"

"Just putting some abandoned supplies to better use," Kyp said with a laugh. "It's not like Yomin Carr could find any use for those in his current state."

Shaking her head at Kyp, Jaina tore open one medpack and pulled a bacta patch out of it. After checking the date to make sure it was still fresh, she flipped up her eyepatch and took off the old bacta patch, then applied the fresh one.

In the meantime, the others were busy unpacking the crates. Tenel Ka handed Jacen a simple glass jar containing one of the brown beetles. "We found this in the station commander's room," she explained.

"Looks like they did know about the beetles after all," Jacen remarked, giving the jar back.

"Yeah," Kyp agreed. "Then we found _these_."

Jacen craned his neck to get a better view of the stuff that had just been put on the dejarik table. In the middle were two roughly ovoid, purplish blob creatures. "What the _kriff_ are those?"

"Communications devices, or rather creatures, of some sort. They were in Yomin Carr's room. One was already dead when we found them."

"And the other?"

Kyp frowned. "It came alive when we touched its front ridge. That's how we found out it was for communication. Some other alien of the same species as Yomin Carr answered, and laughed when he saw me. He warned me that I'm going to be, ah, dead if I keep sticking my nose in where it doesn't belong." The Jedi chuckled at that. "Then he broke the link. We haven't managed to get this thing to respond since then."

Jacen grabbed a makeshift crutch and hopped off the medical bed, making sure not to put weight on his left leg. Then he ambled over to where the strange, blob-shaped creatures were and put a hand on the one Kyp had indicated was alive.

He normally had a talent with any kind of alien life, in that he could easily communicate with it, but in this case his talent didn't help him; the creature was obviously dead. He shrugged. "I guess we could stick them in a stasis chamber to keep them from decomposing... further." He wrinkled his nose slightly. They were already beginning to smell bad, or maybe that was how they normally smelled. He decided not to push the thought further.

"Yeah," Kyp agreed as Lowbacca took both dead creatures into the cargo hold. "Well, we've completely turned this base upside down. Why don't we check out Helska and see what happened to that shuttle?"

Jacen looked down at his leg. Injuries or no injuries, they couldn't forget about the scientists who had gone to Helska. "Maybe we should have gone there first."

"I think Lowbacca and Jaina can pilot this ship," Tenel Ka finally said. "Jacen and I should be able to handle the turrets."

"Then that's settled," Kyp said, turning and heading for the ramp. "Meet you guys in orbit."

A few minutes later the _Rock Dragon_ broke orbit and vanished into hyperspace.

.

* * *

.

The sheer volume of fire that was being exchanged by the Outbound Flight's six Dreadnaughts was, to put it simply, awesome. In his entire career (including the past few years spent in the Delta Quadrant), Chakotay had never seen any civilization capable of holding their own in a slugging match with the Borg. Some tried, but invariably the Borg sent more cubes and those civilizations were soon assimilated like the others.

_Voyager_, of course, was an odd exception. They had seen more action against the Borg than any other Starfleet ship (being lost in Borg territory tended to have that effect) but he could only attribute their continued survival to sheer dumb luck. There had been so many close calls, so many near misses that one more hit would have been the end of their existence. Sometimes they had been caught between the Borg and another threat like Species 8472, and the Borg in that case had gone for the bigger target and mostly ignored _Voyager_.

Really, when one got down to it, _Voyager_ didn't hold much interest to the Borg. After all, they had already assimilated Federation technology and humans. They knew Captain Picard's life experiences, and had the complete knowledge of most who had died at Wolf 359. For  
a collective driven by a thirst for knowledge, what was _Voyager_? The closest analogy he could think of was a gnat buzzing in the ear. An annoyance to be swatted if it got too close, but not deserving of any further attention.

His commbadge chimed, taking him out of his contemplative mood. "Chakotay here," he answered.

"Commander," Tuvok's voice sounded rough and out of breath, "we've taken a direct hit. Decks 1 and 2 have been breached."

Chakotay felt himself stiffen up. "The bridge?"

There was a cough at the other end. "No survivors."

He swallowed, not really wanting to hear the bad news. "Who was on duty?"

"Lieutenant Fernandez and Ensigns Murphy, Henley, and Wildman."

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. Ensign Henley had been a member of his crew on the _Val Jean_. After four years in the Delta Quadrant, barely more than a dozen of the Maquis crew still survived. Chakotay couldn't help but feel a twinge at the loss of yet another of his crew.

Then there was Samantha Wildman, one of the few crewmembers to have a child on _Voyager_. Chakotay certainly wasn't looking forward to telling her daughter Naomi what had happened after this was over.

"Do we still have weapons control?"

"I'm on my way to Engineering right now," Tuvok replied.

Although he was talking through the commbadge, Chakotay nodded out of habit. "Then hit them where it hurts."

He strode over to where Master C'baoth stood on the bridge. The Jedi was watching the battle over the monitors, but greeted him without even turning around.

"My condolences for the loss of your crew, Commander."

Having been around the Jedi for several weeks already, Chakotay was starting to become familiar with their strange abilities to sense things most people would not notice. That didn't make it any less creepy for him.

"Thank you, Master C'baoth." He stopped to scan the monitors and noticed that the cube was starting to fire sporadically. "Are you targeting their weapons?"

C'baoth nodded. "Master Coureran is designating targets for the gunners. We could increase efficiency further if all the gunners were Jedi, but for now, this is sufficient."

"I see." Chakotay looked around the semi-chaotic bridge. "Since we found D-Six, weren't we going to enter hyperspace?"

"Navigation is still computing the course," C'baoth replied. "Unfortunately, this galaxy seems to be filled with navigational hazards that we must correct for. If we are not careful, we could pass through a star or worse."

"Can't you just make corrections after entering hyperspace?" Given how advanced the Republic computers seemed to be, and the fact that the ship was crewed by more androids than humans, what the Jedi was saying didn't make much sense.

C'baoth turned and gave Chakotay an annoyed look, as if a small child had asked him a question he had just explained the answer to a minute before. "We are going to be traveling, on average, at Point Four, or over two light-years per minute. In order to have enough reaction time to make corrections, the navigator would just about have to see into the future. While that has been done before, it is not something I would recommend anyone to try on a regular basis."

Chakotay silently nodded and turned back to the monitors, which showed huge chunks of the cube's superstructure blown away. He ran some quick numbers in his head, deciding that about a third of the cube had been destroyed.

"Master C'baoth?" a voice in the pit asked.

"Yes?"

"Message from D-Three. Master Ma'Ning reports that the bridge and engine room have been cleared of intruders. They are checking out the rest of the ship and expect to have it clear within the hour."

"Good," C'baoth acknowledged.

A moment later, a warning klaxon sounded. The Borg vanished as the stars stretched out, and Chakotay was left wondering how they would react.

"They'll follow us," he warned C'baoth. "We still don't know what the upper limit is on their transwarp drive."

C'baoth smiled. "One of the beautiful things about hyperspace travel is that once you enter hyperspace, no sensors can follow you. They can try to calculate our last trajectory, but we will be changing course many times over the next week or so. I very much doubt they will be able to pursue us."

Chakotay nodded, walking toward the displays that were now showing the strange, ever-changing sky of hyperspace. "It's beautiful," he said after watching for several minutes. "Almost hypnotic."

C'baoth walked up beside him and glanced at the screen. "People have been known to go insane from staring into hyperspace for too long."

"When you stare into the void, the void stares back," Chakotay quoted.

"Who said that?" C'baoth asked.

Chakotay sighed and looked back at the displays. "A twentieth century Earth philosopher named Nietzsche," he replied. "I don't necessarily agree with everything he espoused, but some of his observations were quite accurate."


	11. Ten

CHAPTER TEN

Cathi slumped back into the pilot's seat with exhaustion. Alarm lights still flashed across the control panel, even though it had been several days since her ship had been so rudely thrown from hyperspace. If she had felt depressed before when she had lost her cargo, now she was desperate. For what must have been the hundredth time, she checked the navicomputer and was rewarded by the same error message she had seen each time before: _No Known Objects Found. Unable to triangulate location_. What the kriff was that supposed to mean? Tarv had paid a relative fortune for the military-grade navicomputer, which was supposed to be able to function even in the outer reaches of Wild Space. Yet here it was, spitting out errors as if it was a relic of the ancient Hyperspace Wars.

After holding her head in her hands for an indeterminate amount of time, she looked through the forward viewports at the strange system they were in. At the center of the system, where one might expect to find a star, there was a black hole. Orbiting it were charred, dry hulks that might once have been planets, but had been stripped completely bare by the massive supernova that had occurred so long ago.

She tapped the sensor panel again, hoping that it had turned up some more information about the system in the twelve hours since she had last checked. One result stood out, and she called up the details only to frown a moment later. "That can't be right," she finally muttered.

Moving back to the navicomputer, she worked the controls to plot a jump to the other side of the system. Then she pulled back on the hyperdrive levers, and was rewarded as the ship smoothly slipped into hyperspace for the brief moment it would take to cross the system. When she emerged, there was a slight glimmer of reflected light in the dark patch of empty space ahead, and with some careful piloting it grew into a roughly cylindrical, red-striped shape in the near distance.

"Ah!" Orb exclaimed from the co-pilot's seat beside her, despite her not having invited him into the cockpit. "That's a Republic navigation beacon! I haven't seen one in many years..."

Cathi turned to regard the droid with an exasperated expression plastered across her face. "How could you possibly know that?"

"It's written on the beacon," Orb said as he lifted an arm stiffly. Had the droid been capable of humanoid facial expressions, it probably would have worn a look that said 'You idiot'. Despite that particular limitation, Orb's inflections in Basic were quite expressive and carried essentially the same message.

Indeed, in large, blocky plain Basic the beacon read "REPUBLIC PROPERTY" and what was probably once a warning against tampering with or damaging it per some obscure section of the penal code.

"Right," she muttered, turning back to Orb. "Well, since you're such a genius, I trust you can figure out how to retrieve the coordinates from it?"

"Already done, ma'am. There is also a priority message on the beacon. Would you like me to downlink it as well?"

"Yes, and put it on the holo," Cathi answered.

Moments later, a bearded, long-haired figure appeared on the holodisplay in front of her. He wore a flowing robe and the lines in his face probably placed him at about fifty or sixty years old.

"I am Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth aboard the Outbound Flight. If you are receiving this message, then you have traveled through a hyperspace anomaly into a galaxy eighty-five million light-years distant from our own. You should already be familiar with navigating the anomaly, so I will not waste time discussing that. We have entered a sixty-year hibernation while the ship replenishes its hypermatter supplies. Based on the present time, we are approaching the fourth planet of a nearby system."

The message fritzed slightly, and then C'baoth re-appeared. "This is an update to our previous message. We were discovered by a local spacefaring civilization known as the Federation and have agreed to take one of their starships back to their territory. The coordinates on this beacon have been updated to reflect this change."

Cathi leaned back in the pilot's chair and frowned. Talk about a name from the past. The Outbound Flight was one of the many ghost ships that had entered the legends of spacers. Something about a grand exploration mission, lost just before the Clone Wars broke out. But C'baoth? She'd heard that name too during a stop on Ord Mantell. Didn't he have something to do with Thrawn?

She loaded the coordinates into the navicomputer and pulled up a holomap. The region that was highlighted was located off in the middle of the galactic disk, which she found surprising. It was fairly common knowledge that life had developed in the core... then again, this wasn't the same galaxy she knew, at least if the message was to be believed. What sort of hyperspace anomaly was he talking about, anyway? At least the message had provided her with the answer to why she had been dumped from hyperspace.

Several minutes of contemplation later, the connection hit.

C'baoth.

Thrawn.

The Imperial Commodore who had captured her also had blue skin, like Thrawn. He must have been connected to the Grand Admiral, she finally decided. Had they sabotaged her ship to send it here? Then the rational part of her brain caught up with the irrational part and metaphorically slapped it silly. It was just as likely that it was just a bizarre coincidence that she ran into a non-human Imperial Commodore, made a blind, suicidal (by anybody's book) jump into hyperspace, and then ran into a message beacon that purported to come from the long-lost Outbound Flight.

The odds were still unbelievably high for such a coincidence.

Cathi massaged her temples as her brain continued to argue with itself, deciding after some time that none of it made any sense. The only constant that she absolutely knew was that she was lost somewhere in the universe that was most definitely not her own galaxy, and she had coordinates to a region of the galaxy that may or may not have been the final destination of the Outbound Flight.

Well, first things first. Now that she had downloaded the message, she knew where _Outbound Flight_ was - and that information alone would fetch quite a price on the open market. Assuming she could get back, of course... but like most smugglers, questions like that typically didn't bother her. In the meantime, she had to make sure that nobody else would get the message.

Cathi reached down to the panel and activated the forward laser cannons, then locked them on to the message beacon. One quick tap of the trigger, a single burst of laserfire was all it took to turn the beacon into a glowing cloud of plasma.

With that out of the way, she began to consider her next steps. If she recalled correctly, _Outbound Flight_ was a large and heavily armed vessel, so she would have to be careful not to get too close. Further, the message had not provided her with an actual system, only a region of space that was known as the 'Federation', whatever that meant. And that meant that she would have to go from system to system once in that area to find _Outbound Flight_.

She also knew that in another couple of weeks, she would get unbearably sick and tired of eating surplus ration packs. As appetizing as the names printed on the standard-issue survival packs sounded, the food inside them contained no resemblance to what the real meal would have been even in the most average of cafeterias. Gray was probably the best word to describe it, closely followed by bland. Delicious was a word that, upon seeing the rations, had fled at speeds faster than the fastest HoloNet message to unknown parts of the universe.

With that in mind, she got up and walked back to what passed for the living quarters in the ridiculously cramped YT-2400 freighter. The one working amenity it did have was a drink processor, and she programmed it for the strongest cup of caf it would produce, knowing full well that she'd probably regret it afterward. Right now, however, she just needed the boost in concentration it would bring.

Minutes later, a cup of steaming caf in hand, she returned to the cockpit and began considering the coordinates on the beacon. While it supposedly provided her with a destination, it also unhelpfully left out the means to get there. She remembered the introductory hyperspace navigation course she'd been required to take during the two years she had attempted to attend a university. While it had glossed over many of the details, it had laid a few facts out. One was that if one was ever lost and without communications, it was prudent to seek out a point in deep space away from stars and other navigational hazards to make it easier to jump to a likely destination.

She ran through the navicomp's display, and programmed it to seek a path to a point several light-years outside the strange system. From there, she could leapfrog through empty space until she was outside the bulk of the galactic disk.

The only issue with this plan, which they had mentioned in the course, was that the safest course was also by far the longest. They had then stressed that millions of ships had been lost over the ages by navigators who tried to take shortcuts when they really should have known better.

On the positive side, once she was in the galactic halo, the stars were dispersed enough that it would only take one or two hyperspace jumps to bring her back to the galactic disk near her destination. From there, it would be a matter of hopping through deep space until she felt comfortable jumping into a star system.

The navicomp beeped its readiness, and she activated the controls. The first jump lasted only a few minutes, enough to send her ship into the middle of a relatively empty patch of space. She took a sip of the now slightly cooled caf and resigned herself to the long, thankless task ahead.

* * *

_So this is Helska_, Jacen reflected from his upside-down position in the ventral gun turret as the _Rock Dragon_ dropped out of hyperspace along with the Avengers. It had seven planets in all, including a couple of gas giants in the outer system. _Looks like any other system_.

He found himself somewhat dizzied by all the movement; so as to hopefully avoid detection, all of Kyp's squadron was looping and rolling as they moved, seemingly on the edge of disaster but in reality highly coordinated. He whistled softly. They _were_ good pilots.

"We've got a lot of activity around the fourth planet," Jaina called from the cockpit.

Tenel Ka broke into the comm. "I thought it was supposed to be uninhabited?"

"It's not now."

"Any hostiles?" Kyp asked when there was a lull in chatter. Jacen had almost forgotten that the _Rock Dragon_ had the best sensor kit of any of the ships flying with Kyp...

"I'm reading what looks like an asteroid field in orbit around the fourth planet," Jaina replied, "along with a large moon. All have lifesigns."

"Don't tell me we came all the way out here to find a mining operation," Miko said, his voice dripping with so much sarcasm that Jacen imagined he could catch the excess in a bucket.

"Cut the chatter," Kyp called. "We've got incomings. _Rock Dragon_, do you have readings on them? Identification?"

"Negative," Jaina replied. "Bunch of asteroids, came from the fifth planet."

"Let me get this straight, a bunch of asteroids just broke orbit and decided to come over here?"

"I said cut the chatter, Miko."

There was an audible sigh. "Roger that."

"_Rock Dragon_," Kyp continued, "do you have any sign of the scientists yet?"

"Negative." There was a pause. "Those asteroids are... accelerating?"

"Then they aren't asteroids," Kyp replied. "Shields up, weapons ready. Mark them as potentially hostile and scan all frequencies for comm traffic."

Suddenly, Jacen's targeting screen was awash with yellow dots. "Blaster bolts," he muttered to himself. _There must be around a hundred of them._

"No comm traffic," Jaina reported. "They seem to be well-coordinated."

"Strange," Kyp remarked. "Hang on, we've got something inbound."

"Rocks."

"_What?_"

_They're firing rocks at us?_ Jacen wondered.

"Slight correction," Jaina dryly said, "they're molten rocks. Re-designating incoming group as hostile."

There was a snort. "Rocks? What are they going to do next, start throwing sticks at us?"

"Miko," Kyp warned, obviously getting annoyed at his wingmate. "Avengers, break formation on my mark." He waited until the two sides had almost closed to visual range. "Mark."

Shortly after the squadron split into pairs, they found themselves in the middle of what would best be described as a _swarm_. Jacen opened fire along with everyone else, and space was suddenly awash with the streaks of tracers and the strange molten missiles of the enemy.

He paused for a moment, in between bursts, to take a look at one of the enemy ships that was flying low below him, and noticed its roughly aerodynamic shape, transparent canopy, and even stranger-looking pilot. _So they're starfighters_, he thought before nailing the fighter with a burst from his twin laser cannons.

The first shot... _vanished_? he wondered, but the second powerful shot caught the fighter squarely in the center and blew it into a cloud of molten debris. As he looked around, he noticed that the rest of the Avengers were faring just as well against these crazy fighters.

"Jacen, stay sharp," Tenel Ka pointed out from the other turret. Jolted, he noticed a few of the fighters had strayed close to his position, so he resumed firing. The first blew up immediately, but he found that he had to put several bursts into the second before it was also destroyed.

"They seem to be diverting our fire," he finally remarked. "And they're getting better at it."

"Won't help them," Miko replied in a smug voice. "Those rocks of theirs are a joke."

"Hey, Tenel Ka... I keep getting grav-well alarms," Jaina reported from the cockpit on the ship's intercom a few moments later. "Is there anything wrong with the instruments?"

"No, I just had them checked out," Tenel Ka replied.

Jacen, meanwhile, squeezed his triggers to send another burst of rapid blasterfire toward one of the dagger-like fighters. This time, instead of disappearing or impacting, he watched in astonishment as the shots quite literally _bent_ around the fighter, sailing off into the distance.

"Um... Jaina?" he tapped his headset. "I don't know what's going on here, but my shots just... well... bent."

"I'm seeing the same thing happening," Tenel Ka remarked a moment later.

"What do you mean, _bent?_" Jaina asked.

Jacen tried to nail another fighter but it spun out of his line of fire. "I'm not really sure. It was like the wind blowing the water from a fountain, it just sort of started curving sideways."

Jaina was completely silent for a long enough time that he tapped his headset again. "Jaina?"

"Gravity," she replied an instant later. "It has to be."

"What has to be?"

There was an audible sigh over the intercom. "Think about it, Jacen. What's so dangerous about a black hole?"

The question distracted him enough that he only clipped one of the fighters instead of nailing it head-on. "I don't know," he said in an annoyed voice after the fighter went out of his arc. "It'll suck you in if you get too close?"

"That's part of it," Jaina replied. "The gravity is so strong even light can't escape. You know how even stars bend light around themselves? It sounds like these fighters are doing the same thing, but on a much smaller scale..."

"What stops them from getting crushed to death, then?" Jacen pointedly asked.

"How should I know? Probably their own equivalent of inertial compensators."

A war whoop from Miko dragged Jacen's attention back to the battle. "That was the last of them," Kyp confirmed. "Now let's go see if we can find that ExGal shuttle."

They drove on through the system, passing the fifth planet several hours later. The planet glowed dimly blue-green with reflected light from the primary star. Like most gas giants, it was a ball of clouds that looked incredibly calm from a distance but Jacen knew well that it was anything but calm in the upper levels of the atmosphere. It also had a thin, oddly perpendicular ring circling it.

Far ahead in the distance, he could just barely see the speck of light that was supposed to be the fourth planet. As they drew closer, it became larger and larger until they could see that it was frozen solid, with one oddly-shaped moon orbiting.

"Some pretty strange readings coming off that planet," Jaina remarked from the cockpit.

"So I noticed," Kyp replied over the comm. "Looks like some sort of jamming. I should have figured they'd be expecting us."

Jacen knew that his sister was shaking her head. "It couldn't be jamming-it's on all the wrong frequencies. Wouldn't mess up anything except maybe old radionics gear. I really don't know what to make of it."

"Well, for all we know, they're just as confused about us as we are about them. Maybe they're expecting us to be using those frequencies to communicate."

"Could be. Avengers, hold course. Jaina, are you picking up anything that looks like a _Spacecaster_ yet?"

"Not yet," she replied before cutting herself off. "Wait. I think I've got an ion drive trail... it's pretty diffuse, could be anywhere up to a week old."

"That matches the distress call," Kyp remarked. "Where did they go?"

"Looks like they went somewhere toward the northern hemisphere, but the trail just cuts out halfway to that moon... I'd say they were intercepted, but there's no debris anywhere. They might still be alive."

"What, on the moon?"

"Maybe."

The comm went silent for a moment, and Jacen squinted to get a better look at the planet and its moon. Now that they were closer, he noticed that it wasn't as round as one might expect a moon to be - more disk-shaped and kind of rough looking. Around its equator, he could just barely make out what appeared to be sharply curved peaks. It was a little bit on the small side, too, now that he thought about it. _A captured asteroid?_ he wondered.

"Miko, on my signal, you and I break and make a pass at the moon. Avengers, you are to hold back and escort the _Rock Dragon_ until we regroup."

There was a flurry of acknowledgements and then the two X-wings separated from the rest of the squadron. Not long after that, Jaina opened the channel again.

"Kyp, Miko, you have bogeys inbound. I think that moon's their base."

"We see them," Kyp replied. "Looks like more of those rock fighters. I think we can handle it. Stay sharp."

"Copy that," Jaina replied. "Jacen, Tenel Ka, you ready?"

"Ready as ever," Jacen said.

"I am ready," Tenel Ka added.

Jaina chirped the comm. "Range in thirty seconds. Um... Kyp, heads up. Two more groups of fighters are closing in on you."

"Copy," Kyp replied tersely. "Miko, break right! Go close to the moon, let's see if we can lose them."

Then the _Rock Dragon _entered the thick of the fray. This time, Jacen guessed that there were at least twice as many fighters as the last time. Not that it mattered much - the molten missiles of the enemy didn't even pose much threat to the two old Z-95 Headhunters in the Avengers.

"What the kriff?" one of the pilots, who flew a B-wing if he remembered right, exclaimed. "My shields just went down!"

"I'll get 'em off your tail, Alesatt," his wingman replied. "Hang in there!"

"Mine are down too!" another pilot exclaimed. "Damn it-" then the transmission cut off in a burst of static.

"Avenger Six, do you copy?" Jaina asked. "Avenger Six! Kriff. Avenger Seven, did you see what happened?"

"Came right out of nowhere," Avenger Seven replied. "Shot cooked off his magazine."

"Avenger Eleven, what's your status?"

The B-wing pilot coughed. "I'm a little roughed up, but my shields are back."

"What happened?"

"I don't know," the pilot replied. "Arfour was babbling something about gravity and magnetic fields, then my shields went down until my wingmate blew the fighter off my tail."

As Jacen fired another burst at a passing rock-fighter, there was a scream over the comm and he saw the icon representing Avenger Nine wink out.

"Kyp, what's going on? We're under heavy fire!" Jaina exclaimed.

"Not much better," Kyp replied. "We can't shake them!"

"Maybe we should just get out of here. I think we can still outrun them," Jaina suggested.

"Agreed," Kyp replied. "Avengers, meet up at the rendezvous point. We'll be right behind you."

The _Rock Dragon_ went into a tight turn that sent Jacen's fire wide, and he heard the sharp whine of the engines running up to full thrust.

"No shield!" Miko suddenly exclaimed. "Tractor beam!"

Jacen frowned. It was nearly impossible to snag a fighter with a tractor beam at the near-relativistic speeds they usually traveled at. Then again, they obviously weren't dealing with an enemy familiar with the term 'impossible'. Who'd ever heard of stripping fully charged shields away, anyway?

"Hang on!" Kyp answered. "Where's it coming from?"

"I can't tell!" Miko shouted. "I'm at full power but I'm still going backwards!"

Two of the symbols that represented Avengers Three and Four-a Z-95 and an X-TIE Ugly, respectively-broke from the formation and curved back toward where Kyp and Miko were.

"We're coming!" Avenger Three said.

"Negative, Negative!" Kyp shouted. "Get out of here, there are too many of them!"

"We're not leaving you," Three replied.

Kyp nearly screamed. "You kriffing idiots! Get the kriff out of here!"

There was another burst of static and Avenger Four's icon winked out.

"I see you! Hang on!"

"Avenger Three, return to formation! You have a wing of bogeys on your tail!" Jaina shouted.

"I'll make it!"

"The hell you will!" Kyp exclaimed.

"I'm hit!" Miko reported. "Port engines out! I'm losing fuel!"

"Can you eject?"

There was a brief pause, followed by a spurt of very descriptive cursing. "My hatch is jammed!"

"I'll try to break their lock," Kyp said. "Hang on! Three, this is no time for heroics. Get out of here before you get yourself killed!"

"I've got your six," Three replied.

"Damn it, Three," Kyp grumbled. "If you insist. I'm going in. Cover me."

"The hell is that?" Jaina said on the internal comm. A new symbol winked to life on Jacen's targeting screen and he squinted to see where it was in the distance. Whatever it was, it seemed to be much larger than the rocky fighters they'd been struggling with. Roughly ovoid-shaped, it came toward them slowly-and then the front of it seemed to disintegrate into a cloud of pieces.

"Wasn't me," Jacen remarked.

"Oh kriff," Jaina said. "Missiles." A cloud of red blips flashed to life on the targeting scope, suddenly seeming to streak forward toward the remnants of the Avengers.

"Miko, did it work?" Kyp asked.

"Negative," came Miko's subdued reply. "Get out of here-how's the Navy going to know what's happening out here if nobody survives to tell? I'll be fine without you guys."

"You're kidding," Kyp replied. "I'm not going to let them kill or capture you if I can help it."

"I am a Jedi," Miko intoned, "and the Force is my ally..."

Avenger Three burst into a fireball right behind Kyp. The sudden impact seemed to make up the older Jedi's mind. "We'll be back, Miko, I promise. May the Force be with you. Jaina, what's the status?"

"We can't jump yet, there are too many gravity wells."

Jacen saw one of the missiles flash by, and for a fleeting second he thought he saw wings and a tail. He tried to track another missile but it passed too fast to hit. Then he felt a thump and looked around to see where it came from. His mouth dropped as the... thing... came into sight. It wasn't even a missile at all, but a living creature. It crawled over the hull of the _Rock Dragon_ with four stubby appendages. Vicious-looking pincers formed its mouth, and for a brief moment the creature looked at him with a beady eye.

It reminded him of a sea creature he had seen in an aquarium on one of the worlds he'd visited with his parents as a young child.

Then he snapped out of the moment and swung his turret around as fast as he could, hoping it would depress far enough to let him hit the ugly thing. At its lowest point, he fired. The first two bolts passed right over the creature, and then the lower pair of cannons spat out red bolts that blew the thing completely off the hull. His proximity alarms blared from the close hit before fading away.

"Jaina, they're firing mynocks, or some ugly relative of theirs! If we don't jump to hyperspace right now, one might chew through something important!"

"I'm trying!" she cried in desperation. "The damn thing's going crazy with all the gravity wells!"

Another of the things passed uncomfortably close and Jacen grabbed the comm again. "Just jump anywhere, damn it!"

"It got my droid!" one of the Avengers exclaimed.

Jacen saw another creature heading straight at him and blew it away with a burst of laser fire. "I don't think we have any more time!"

"Hang on!" Jaina shouted triumphantly, and the stars seemed to elongate for a brief, frozen moment of time before settling into the familiar, swirling maelstrom of hyperspace.


	12. Eleven

(A note to readers: I rolled the intro section into the Prologue, which had the effect of re-numbering all the chapters. This would have shown up as Chapter 13 if I had not made that change.)

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

"You let the _infidels_ escape?"

The undertones of the question Prefect Da'Gara had just posed suggested it had much more in common with a judge's verdict than the simple question it appeared to be. From his position at the bottom of the hollowed-out ice chamber, his head bowed low to the cold floor, Commander Skravi Krel considered his options.

"Most Honored One, I do not believe they escaped," Krel replied as he came back to his feet. The stalactites overhead looked especially sharp today, part of him considered. "Only two metal-craft made it into darkspace. Each was followed by several _grutchnya_."

Prefect Da'Gara narrowed his lidless eyes, his blood-red living robes waving about him as he moved closer toward the commander. "But how can you be so sure? The _jeedai_ that we captured told us that the two metal-craft that escaped were controlled by other _jeedai_." The Prefect straightened and began to circle about the commander. "While you may be correct, there is no way I can know for sure."

Skravi Krel wanted to say something insulting, but knew that such a move would be pointless and ultimately fatal. In the meantime, the Prefect continued stalking around him in a circle. He eyed the stalactites above, and wondered what the chances were of one falling and hitting the Prefect. Or himself; that would be much better than the fate the Prefect undoubtedly had planned for him. The shapers would likely remove his implants and send him to join the ranks of the Shamed Ones, who kept the bowels of the great Yuuzhan Vong worldships running. It was a thankless, inglorious task that no Yuuzhan Vong warrior of true standing ever wanted to be faced with.

"Thanks to you, we now know more about the infidels' capabilities, and, if this _jeedai_ is to be believed, the metal-craft you faced were controlled by the best warriors to be found here. But allowing even two of the infidels to escape is inexcusable, no matter how much this unworthy _jeedai_ may hold them in regard."

Skravi Krel waited, silently, for the hammer blow that he knew was about to hit him.

"It has become apparent to me that you are ill-suited to commanding the defense of our foothold in this galaxy," Da'Gara snarled. "Yet you showed initiative in battle, something not every warrior possesses. You will therefore be rewarded with a _Miid ro'ik_ and two escorts."

"I am humbled, Prefect," Skravi Krel said as he bowed again.

"I am not finished," Da'Gara replied. "There is a region of the galaxy that no scouts have ever returned from. Executor Anor has not given me any insight as to why that is the case. You will take your command and have an answer for me within a _klekket_. Furthermore, if you manage to destroy the _infidels_ that dare to resist us, you will be handsomely rewarded. If you fail, even death shall be no escape as your domain will bear the shame of your failure."

Skravi Krel bowed, wincing at the very idea as he did so. While the _Miid Ro'ik_ was a powerful war-craft in its own right, it was presumptuous to assume that even one could conquer a star system with average defenses. The escorts barely made any difference... and yet Da'Gara was expecting him to single-handedly wipe out the resistance in an entire region of space, in only a single _klekket_? Such a task would normally take a _Kor Chokk_ battle group with at least ten _Miid Ro'iks_ and several dozen escorts close to six _klekkets_ to complete.

If the concept of a suicide mission was known to the Yuuzhan Vong commander, he showed no sign of it. Death was supposed to be a cause for celebration for any Yuuzhan Vong; it was the re-uniting of the recently departed with Yun-Yuuzhan. Death in battle was even more glorious; some said that Yun-Yuuzhan's reward to his faithful increased for every infidel they sacrificed. Every day that a true warrior survived therefore meant more chances for him to offer infidels to the glory of the gods.

The latter sentiment was the one that Skravi Krel most readily agreed with. Unlike some of the heathen religions in this alien galaxy, however, there was little room for dissent with the Yuuzhan Vong way of life. Such arguments usually ended in much pain and suffering for those who went against the True Way. Some even whispered that wars resulting from such heresies were responsible for the destruction of Yuuzhan'tar.

For that reason, whatever heretical thoughts he may have had about suicide missions he kept to himself. "Belek Tiu," he said, snapping his fists against his shoulders in acknowledgement before bowing and exiting the chamber.

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* * *

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"Commodore, a report for you," the comm on Mantrel's desk crackled to life.

"Send it over." He turned his chair to face his datapad, then called up the information on screen. Before he had returned the smuggler's ship, they had placed a tracking beacon on it. For two days, it had returned no results. Then it had broadcast a quick ping before going completely silent again.

The part of the report that made him stop and re-read it were the standard coordinates listed as the beacon's last known location. He hadn't seen those particular coordinates in almost sixty years.

"Navigation, set a course to the coordinates I will provide you," he ordered over the intercom. "Flank speed."

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Kalm'ant'reltano looked up from the helm station on the bridge of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet picket _Springhawk_ as the commlink chimed.

_"Ch'tra,_" Mitth'raw'nuruodo ordered.

Kalm'ant'reltano grabbed the helm controls and the _Springhawk_ surged forward like a starfighter, maintaining close formation with the other eleven picket ships. His orders had been simple: execute an attack run as close as possible to _Outbound Flight_ to evade their defensive batteries while the commander organized a distraction.

The distance was lit up by flashes of light as hundreds of Trade Federation vulture droids tore apart the Vagaari fleet. After seeing how viciously the Vagaari had destroyed the Geroon and countless other races, Kalm'ant'reltano was understandably curious why they were not firing on the starfighters or anything else. After all, they had a massive numerical advantage over even the Trade Federation force. Why would they not use that advantage?

For that matter, why wasn't _Outbound Flight_ firing? What had Mitth'raw'nuruodo done to both?

As _Springhawk_ drew closer to the six Dreadnaughts, he forced the questions down. They were almost at point-blank range now, and it would have been trivial for the Dreadnaughts' powerful turbolaser batteries to blow them out of the sky. Yet they held their fire, as if... what? What could they possibly be expecting? Mitth'raw'nuruodo had threatened them with complete destruction, and now _Springhawk_ and the other eleven pickets were making an attack run on the massive ship.

Then space flared to life with hundreds of point defense cannons, but _Springhawk_'s shields held against the fire even while the gunners began to engage their own targets.

Blue met green as _Springhawk_ traded fire with the much larger ship. They were already inside the minimum firing range of the turbolaser batteries, skimming along just meters from the armored hull. The main batteries of the Dreadnaughts were the first to be targeted, along with munitions magazines and shield generators. At such close range, with all of the picket ships' guns trained on the same target, they were able often to achieve partial shield bleedthrough. One of the main batteries on the Dreadnaught cooked its magazine off, detonating violently. Still they kept going, targeting other essential systems that were close enough to the hull to have a chance of damaging. Sometimes they succeeded, other times the shields held fast.

Then the attack run was over, and the twelve ships shot out aft of _Outbound Flight_ before turning around to make another pass at the next Dreadnaught. By the time they had finished their attack runs, it was injured and weakened, but not completely crippled. Kalm'ant'reltano resumed formation with the other ships; he now only had to wait for the next command.

"Jedi Master C'baoth;" Mitth'raw'nuruodo began in Basic, a language that Kalm'ant'reltano now mostly understood, but still had trouble pronouncing. "Leaders of _Outbound Flight_. Your vessel has been damaged, its ability to defend itself impaired. I offer you this one final chance to surrender and return to the Republic."

"What?" a shrill voice exclaimed over the active comm. "But you were to destroy them."

"If and when you should command again, Vicelord Kav, such decisions will be yours," Mitth'raw'nuruodo said coolly. "But not now. _Outbound Flight_, I await your decision."

It seemed like an eternity before the comm came to life again. This time the speaker sounded much different. He coughed heavily before beginning. "So this is what you call gratitude?"

Mitth'raw'nuruodo was rarely fazed, but Kalm'ant'reltano thought he detected a hint of confusion in his commander's voice. "What do you mean by gratitude?"

"We just helped you destroy the Vagaari," the voice, which he guessed was C'baoth, replied. "This is how you have repaid us? Do not forget, Commander, that we have over ten thousand innocent civilians on board this vessel. If you destroy this ship, you will be just as guilty as the Vagaari."

"Do not dare to compare me to the Vagaari," Mitth'raw'nuruodo answered. "You know nothing of what they have done."

"I have looked into their minds. I have seen the millions they murdered without so much as a second thought, simply because it amused them. We helped you destroy them because it was what justice demanded of us, and yet you attacked us in return."

"I do what I must to protect my people," Mitth'raw'nuruodo replied plainly.

"As do I," C'baoth countered.

"So then, Master C'baoth, we remain at odds. Will you surrender and return to your Republic, or will you force me to destroy you? As I see it, that would make you an accomplice to murder."

"Harsh words from the man holding the blaster," he replied.

"Nevertheless, the choice remains yours. You have had your hour to decide. What will your answer be?"

"A Jedi does not yield to intimidation," C'baoth spat. "He follows only the destiny that the Force provides him. We will not agree to your terms."

"Then so be it."

The vulture droids, which had been holding back near the now-crippled Vagaari, suddenly shot forward toward _Outbound Flight_. The remaining point defense blasters and several turbolaser batteries again flared to life, but the fire was now inconsistent and often went wild.

Kalm'ant'reltano was expecting the fighters to strafe the remaining batteries and silence the point defense guns so he and the other picket ships could make another attack run to actually cripple the massive assemblage of warships. But as they madly drove toward the warships, they made no attempt at all to slow down as their blaster cannons and torpedo launchers spat out everything they could. The first wave, which he guessed was about fifty fighters, simply crashed into the rear hull of one Dreadnaught, where his attack had already weakened the shields. The impacts buckled the already damaged hull of the ship, creating a massive explosion. He frowned slightly; the explosion was far more massive than he had expected from such tiny craft.

Then, just as more fighters were about to strike that and the other Dreadnaughts, the ship's engines suddenly flared brightly, and in a flicker of psuedomotion _Outbound Flight_ was gone.

Stunned, Kalm'ant'reltano ordered their last vector to be pulled up. The system they were in was a strange one, with a black hole at its center.

He double-checked the information in front of him, but there was only one conclusion he could make.

_Outbound Flight_ had jumped into hyperspace, on a course that could have only taken them into the black hole. It was, by anyone's definition, suicide. Why? was the only question that remained in his mind.

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Commodore Mantrel pushed the datapad away from himself. The coordinates the tracking beacon had reported from were, unbelievably, the same coordinates of the black hole that _Outbound Flight_ had been destroyed in.

Or had it?

As he recalled, theoretical hyperspace physicists across were still arguing over the true nature of black holes, as they had since time immemorial. The biggest problem with black hole theories, of course, was that once something went in, it never came out. Many a probe had been sent in to investigate, yet no one in the galaxy had ever heard back from any of them.

Then again, he didn't ever recall hearing of any hyperspace probes going into black holes, although there was concern from some theoretical hyperspace physicists that hitting a black hole in hyperspace could actually tear apart the fabric of the universe.

He had never been sure how much faith to place in that idea. It seemed more likely that you would simply get killed doing such a stupid thing.

Sighing, Mantrel picked up the datapad. If nothing ever came out, then what the kriff did their homing beacon's message mean? Mantrel stood and began walking to the bridge. Perhaps he could get to the bottom of this once and for all.

"We have arrived in the system, Sir," the navigation officer informed him as he stepped onto the bridge.

"Sitrep?"

"No active ships in sensor range. Sir, this system is completely inhospitable to all known life forms. The primary black hole has thoroughly irradiated what's left of the planetary bodies."

He nodded. Just as he remembered, then. "Comm-scan, run an active sensor sweep on the black hole itself. Look for any metallic objects."

"Yes, Sir. It may take additional time with the system interference."

"Understood."

Mantrel paced the floor of the bridge while he waited for the scan to complete; it did, in fact, take quite a bit of extra time to complete and the Comm-Scan tech apologized for the inconclusive results.

"I did pick up trace amounts of the component elements of durasteel in the spectral analysis," he finally concluded.

"Can we retrieve it?"

"I doubt it, Sir. Gravitational stresses in that part of the accretion disk are quite extreme. Whatever it was, it has been broken down to the atomic level."

Commodore Mantrel paced a few more steps before turning back to Comm-Scan. "I have a suspicion that something about this is not quite right," he began. "I want to send two probe droids into the black hole."

"Sir?" the operator questioned.

"Have one probot programmed to enter at sublight speeds," Mantrel continued, ignoring him. "Program the second one to make a hyperjump that passes through the black hole's coordinates. If either one remains operational after entering the black hole, it will scan the area, turn around and transit the black hole again, then begin broadcasting at full power.

"I see, Sir. At once, Sir."

As the activity in the pit resumed its steady buzz, Mantrel walked over to where Captain Ollic stood.

"Commodore," Ollic acknowledged.

"Captain," Mantrel replied. "What do you know about this system?"

The human captain shrugged. "Only what the scans turned up. It has a black hole primary that is feeding off the secondary star. No hospitable planets, no liquid water anywhere."

"Was there any information in the ship's database?"

"No, Sir."

"Then allow me to fill you in," Mantrel replied. "Almost sixty years ago, Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet intercepted a Trade Federation task force in this very system.

"I see," Ollic mused. "That was before my time... but what business did the Trade Federation have? There is nothing of value here."

"Precisely." Mantrel took several steps toward the bridge viewports. "They had been sent here by the order of the Emperor, with one of his trusted advisors."

Ollic paused, obviously lost in thought. "That doesn't mean what I think it means... does it?"

"This is where the _Outbound Flight_ met its end," Mantrel finished. "At least, that was what we assumed. We struck and crippled them, and Thrawn was about to finish them off when they suddenly jumped to hyperspace."

"I always thought they had been destroyed?"

"As did I," Mantrel replied. "Their hyperspace vector lead straight to the black hole. The Emperor's advisor assumed that meant they were dead. I was not so sure but was not about to try following them."

Ollic frowned. "So why did our smuggler come here, then?"

"Perhaps she was looking for something from _Outbound Flight_," Mantrel suggested. "It was a colony ship, after all. They had quite a bit of valuable technology aboard, even by today's standards. The salvage rights to that ship would be quite... handsome."

"Indeed," Ollic agreed. "No self-respecting smuggler that I've met would ever fly into a black hole unless they had good reason."

"Probe droids have been launched, Sir," a tech reported from the pit.

Mantrel walked over to the holographic tactical display, which showed icons of the two probots shooting away from the _Magistrate_. They both blinked out as they jumped to hyperspace; then, moments later, one flashed back to existence in the black hole's accretion disk, spiraling inward at a rapid rate. As it neared the black hole, though, the probe seemed to freeze in place.

"Comm-Scan, what's going on with the probe?" Ollic asked.

"We've lost communication, Sir."

"How? It's still there."

"It must have passed through the event horizon, Sir."

Ollic nodded. "Understood. Continue monitoring." Then he turned and walked back to Mantrel. "I hope this works," he remarked. "We only have one probe droid left now, and we can't just buy more from Arakyd on the open market without drawing attention to ourselves."

"I agree that it does not feel right for an Imperial warship to be purchasing supplies from the black market," Mantrel agreed, "but unfortunately, such are our circumstances. As much as I respect Admiral Pellaeon, his hands are still tied by the Moffs and I refuse to support that group of fools."

"That reminds me," Ollic said, walking toward the rear of the bridge. "The crop reports from Nilor III are below average. Their shipments to us will be reduced by one third compared to last year."

Nilor III was a small colony world in the Outer Rim that had fallen through the cracks during the Clone Wars and been subsequently ignored by both the Empire and New Republic. The _Magistrate_ had intercepted a distress call from their authorities several years prior, arriving in time to drive away a small fleet of pirates that had been harassing them. In exchange for their continued protection by the Empire of the Hand, they had agreed to a small tax on their yearly output. So far the arrangement had worked fairly well for both sides.

"That could cause us some problems. Dispatch one of the corvettes there to investigate."

Ollic nodded. "I'll inform Captain Artravis."

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While Captain Ollic walked over to the inter-ship comm to deliver the orders, Mantrel continued watching the holotable. Moments later, one icon popped back up on the display.

"Sir, we have the data from one of the probes," a tech reported from the pit.

Mantrel walked over to the pit and looked down at the tech's station. "Report. Which probe was it?"

"The hyperspace one, Sir."

"And where does the black hole lead?"

The tech checked the displays briefly. "Unknown, Sir. I've cross-referenced the star logs from the probe with our navigational database. No matches were found."

"Interesting," Mantrel mused. "Were there any signs of civilization?"

"There are bursts of subspace emissions from several nearby star systems. The emissions appear random at first, but the computer has identified structures that are consistent with an encoding scheme. Should I send the logs down to intel for analysis?"

"Immediately," Mantrel ordered. "Excellent report, Technician Jenz."

"Thank you, Sir."

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The Commodore walked back to the tactical display, where Captain Ollic was waiting.

"Captain Artravis will be en route to Nilor III shortly," Ollic reported, then his expression became more quizzical. "What did I miss?"

"We now know there is life in this new galaxy," Mantrel replied. "Captain, may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

Mantrel paced briefly in front of the holotable. "Which captain do you think would be best suited for a long term survey mission?"

Ollic considered the question, obviously wondering if it was some sort of test, before finally answering. "Captain Yates."

"And what do you think qualifies him?"

"He has consistently high evaluations in his service record, and his ship is more well-suited to long term operations than any other ship in the fleet." Which was true; Thanan Yates was in command of their only Loronar Strike Cruiser, the _Diversion_. The Strike Cruisers had been designed specifically for Outer Rim patrol missions where the starship would be operating semi-autonomously for several years at a time. Of course, at less than one third of the size of an _Imperator_-class such as the _Magistrate_, it was never meant to be compared to the real cruisers of the Imperial Navy which out-massed and out-gunned the _Magistrate_ several times over.

Then again, most of those cruisers now belonged to the New Republic.

"A wise choice, Captain. Have the ship prepared for hyperspace. We will return to base and inform Captain Yates of his new assignment."

Ollic's confusion was plainly evident on his face. "New assignment, Sir?"

"He is going to find out where exactly this anomaly leads, and determine the whereabouts of _Outbound Flight_'s final resting place."

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* * *

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Kyp had never heard of, much less seen, any living creature capable of surviving hyperspace by itself. Even mynocks, silicon-based lifeforms that were irritatingly common in spaceports, could only survive if they stayed latched on to their host ship.

Yet right now, there was evidence of such a thing staring him in the face. _With nasty, beady eyes_, Kyp mentally added. It just looked _evil_, having ray-like wings and constantly clacking pincer-jaws.

The reason he was staring at it, of course, instead of simply blowing it out of the sky was because that had simply not been an option at the time. Right after their first frantic hyperjump, several of the creatures had been inside point-blank range. One of the few weaknesses of the X-wing's design were its widely spaced laser cannons, which prevented it from firing on anything small that was within about one fighter-length. Effective minimum range, the point at which you were guaranteed to get convergence from the four cannons, was about one hundred meters. Which, Kyp, reflected, was so close that it was almost never actually seen in combat.

So, faced with allowing one of the creatures to make a pass at his fighter and potentially damage his propulsion, like they had done with all the others in his squadron (he still hadn't quite wrapped his head around the realization that everyone except him and those aboard the _Rock Dragon_-with the possible exception of Miko-were all dead), Kyp had opted to sacrifice the sensor package at the nose of his X-wing. Considering that the _Rock Dragon_ mounted a far more thorough set of sensors, it was a trade-off that he was willing to make. He had rammed one of the creatures, impaling its midsection on the rather blunt plasteel dome of the fighter. Somewhat amazingly, it was still struggling to pull itself free, its acid-covered pincers clacking angrily.

Of course, as long as the thing remained there, it would make re-entering an atmosphere an interesting challenge. It also meant that he couldn't fire his own cannons accurately.

"Jacen, anytime now..."

"I'm working on it!" Jacen's reply came. "Little busy here."

He squinted at the _Rock Dragon_ in the distance. Several of the creatures were still crawling over it. "If you blow this thing off my nose, I can pick the rest of those bugs off your hull," he replied.

"Would you mind coming a little closer at least? I'd rather not shoot you by mistake."

Kyp ran the throttle up, pulling alongside the port turret of the transport. "Just don't scratch the paint."

Jacen laughed. "We're about to be eaten alive, and you're worried about your paint job?"

In what only seemed like a heartbeat after two searing red blaster bolts blew half of the offending creature away (splattering his cockpit canopy with yellow, acidic ichor in the process), his R6 unit screeched a warning. He frantically looked around to see what was going on, but nothing seemed out of place.

"Jacen, what's going on?" he finally asked.

The comm was silent for a moment before Jacen replied. "You've got one hanging off your upper starboard cannon."

"What?" Kyp craned his neck around and leaned forward; sure enough, another of the beady-eyed bugs was now attempting to chew through his laser cannon. If it damaged the Tibanna gas cylinder inside... "How'd that happen? Can you get it?"

"I'll try," Jacen replied. Kyp saw the quad guns swing around and silently hoped that Jacen's aim was true. First one moment passed, then two, before Kyp finally spoke again.

"What's going on?"

"Damn thing's between your S-foils now. I can't hit it."

Kyp looked again but only saw the torn metal from where it had been chewing on his laser. "What's it doing there?"

"Going for your engines, I think. These damn things are worse than mynocks..."

"Kriff." His mind raced as he thought about his options now. Jacen couldn't shoot it for fear of blowing his whole fighter up, and if the bug got into one of the fuel cells it would also be game over. He looked over the control panels for anything that could help, and his eyes came to rest on the S-foil control switch before he quickly mashed it.

The fighter shuddered as the S-foils began closing. They had just touched the creature when they began re-opening. The control panel started beeping a warning at him which just made him swear louder. "R6, override the damned S-foils!"

Well, at least the droid was all right, he decided as the S-foils began closing again before grinding to a halt with the bug in between. Unbelievably, it continued to squirm, causing the foil motors to squeal in protest as they struggled to finish closing.

"How many more of these kriffing things are there?" Jacen exclaimed in frustration. Kyp looked over his shoulder and saw another bug crawling down the _Rock Dragon_'s hull toward the quad lasers.

"Hold tight... I'll get him."

Grabbing the controls, he spun the X-wing around to face the transport, and began lining his sights up on the creature threatening Jacen's turret.

Then an ear-splitting _thud_ reverberated through the fighter, and his shots went wild as the X-wing began spinning slowly. "What now?" he screamed in frustration. A brief message from R6 appeared on his screen, and as he read it, his stomach sank. Somehow, the creature he'd trapped between his starboard S-foils had still managed to breach one of the fuel cells. He only hoped that it had cooked itself in the process, but given how tenacious the damned things were, part of him doubted it.

He fought the control stick to bring the damaged fighter under control again, then tried to line up his sights on the bug again.

Only it wasn't there.

"Jacen, where'd it go?"

"I don't..." Jacen's voice trailed off, and Kyp wondered just what the hell was going on for a moment before R6 screeched out an agonizing wail and went silent. "Uh, I think he just took out your R6 unit."

"You think?"

Then he heard a scratching noise directly above him... and saw a set of dark, sharp-edged limbs scraping away at the already stained, acid-etched transparisteel of his cockpit canopy.

"I have _had it_ with these kriffing bugs!" he shouted at no-one in particular as he madly fumbled to seal up his vacsuit. "That's _it!_"

"Kyp, what are you doing? I think I can get it!"

He grabbed his lightsaber and opened the canopy, which strained against the creature's mass. Still, it opened just enough to let him squirm out of the fighter. A razor-sharp spear-claw swung at him and he just narrowly managed to avoid it by pressing himself down against the nose of the X-wing.

When the claw cleared, he kicked frantically to free his legs as the canopy began to creak back down. He must have hit the controls, he realized a moment later, as the X-wing entered into a slow, dizzying spin.

As soon as he was clear of the hatch and out of range of the spear-claws of the abominable creature, he wrapped his legs around the nose of the fighter so he wouldn't go flying off and drew his lightsaber. Another swipe by the bug was cut off prematurely along with the leg. It recoiled, and Kyp grinned viciously. "Not so tough now, are you?"

Another appendage flew at him, and Kyp removed it just as easily as the first. "Yeah. Just try to eat my X-wing. I dare you."

The bug dragged itself backward a step, but continued to stare at him as its jaws clacked wildly. He swung the lightsaber again and chopped off its pincer-like jaws before propelling himself toward it and slicing it down the middle. Still twitching, it began to drift away from the X-wing as Kyp tried to stop himself.

After pulling himself back toward the X-wing with the Force, Kyp took in the situation. His R6's dome was hopelessly trashed. The upper starboard S-foil was twisted at a crazy angle from the explosion in the engine, but although blackened, the creature trapped between the wings was still alive. Kyp gave it another glance; barely alive would be more like it, as it hardly moved except to follow him with one of its eyes.

Then he shifted his attention over to the _Rock Dragon_ some hundred or so meters away. Three of the bugs were still attached to it, and he could see sparks flying as one of them was apparently chewing through a power conduit. Throwing caution to the wind, he crawled along the damaged fighter to the side facing directly toward the _Rock Dragon_, crouched, and kicked himself off toward the transport. After all, if that ship became crippled, none of them were likely to make it back without a miracle.

The hundred meters between the X-wing and the Rock Dragon were probably the most agonizing hundred meters Kyp had ever crossed. The ship seemed to take forever to get closer, and he could only watch helplessly as one of the bugs finished chewing through the conduit. The transport's ion engines sputtered out moments later.

"We've lost power!" Jaina exclaimed over the comm.

"Yeah," he replied in a resigned tone. "One of them chewed through a conduit. I hope you have a spare or we're all screwed."

Then he crashed into the side of the _Rock Dragon_, grabbing at a protruding sensor to arrest himself as he started to rebound off the larger ship. He grimaced, hoping that he didn't puncture anything on his vac suit, and carefully began to crawl around to where the bugs were.

Fortunately for him, the nearest one was still completely focused on gnawing through what was left of the power conduit. Keeping as much distance between himself and the almost three-meter long critter as was possible, he took out its hind claws with one slice of the blade. Rudely interrupted from its meal, the bug spun about threateningly without even using its legs-a feat that, for a brief instant, struck Kyp as remarkable. _They must have been bred to function in vacuum_, he realized. Although he still had no clue how they managed to move so damned fast-outperforming an A-wing in burst acceleration was no small feat, although the A-wing probably had longer endurance...

The bug suddenly shot forward at him, barely giving him any time to react. He sprung off the top of the _Rock Dragon_'s hull, igniting his lightsaber and pointing it down at the creature as he did so. The blade sliced into its head before his momentum carried him out of reach. In the meanwhile, the creature's dead body continued drifting forward beyond the _Rock Dragon_.

_One more down, two to go_, Kyp mentally counted.

The brief contact between the creature and his lightsaber had taken his vertical jump and sent him somersaulting in a way that an ordinary human would not have been able to correct for in the vacuum of space. It went without saying that a Jedi was far from an ordinary being.

He closed his eyes and reached out for the larger ship, trying to draw himself in toward its mass like an anchor. He never really had understood the problems that many Jedi had with levitation; when you boiled it down to the essentials, levitation was simply using the Force to counteract gravity. The only difference between levitating a rock and levitating yourself was that instead of merely being the fulcrum of an invisible lever, you had to _be_ the lever.

Kyp guessed that that was actually the real reason that most Jedi had such trouble with levitating was precisely that; it was tough to stand back and use your mind's eye when you were the subject in question.

Once he was back on the hull of the ship, he grabbed onto a sturdy-looking handhold and looked for the next bug. It wasn't very far away, and was currently attempting to break through the transparisteel viewport near Jacen. He quickly estimated the distance and angle to the creature, then took his lightsaber, locked it on, and sent it spinning toward the bug's head. It reacted by reaching up to catch the spinning, glowing saber-a reaction that must have seemed like a good idea at the time, but in this case only got its forelimb chopped off before it was beheaded by the blade. After watching it for a moment to make sure it wasn't moving, Kyp called the saber back to his hand. "Jacen, where's the last one?"

"There's another one?"

"I think I saw something over here," Tenel Ka called out a moment later. Kyp sighed; if it was on the other side of the ship, there was no way he could tell whether or not he would run into the creature from behind or head-on.

"Jaina, any idea?"

"I'm getting an alarm on one of the coolant lines," she replied a moment later. "That could be it."

Kyp looked over the upper edge of the ship but didn't see anything particularly alarming. As he recalled, the primary cooling lines on this ship ran along the ventral portion of the hull and were heavily armored for a civilian vessel, considering how vital they were. Still, the bugs had shown themselves able to corrode and cut their way thorough starfighter hulls, and he wasn't willing to bet his life that the slightly heavier armor plating of the _Rock Dragon_ would be able to withstand it for much longer.

He began climbing headfirst down the side of the ship. One problem, of course, with being in space was that he had to rely completely on his eyes and the Force for any warning of dangers; sound, of course, didn't travel through the near vacuum space no matter what they showed in the action holovids.

"Got you, you spawn of a gundark," Kyp muttered as he poked his head out over the bottom of the ship. He could see a slight spray of venting coolant and hoped that they had working vacuum suits aboard the _Rock Dragon_. His X-wing flight suit, after all, wasn't designed for sustained space operations-in the brief time he'd been out of the cockpit, he had already used up over a quarter of his total oxygen supply. He knew that there was always a five-minute reserve supply once the level read empty, but he didn't feel like pushing his luck any farther than he'd been forced to push it within the past twelve hours.

This time, the beast was looking right at him, but it evidently didn't consider him of interest because it went right back to scraping at the hull. He retracted his head and began pulling himself around the side of the ship, toward the stern.

When he looked again, the coolant leak had gotten slightly worse, and the bug was still occupied by trying to make it even bigger. "I found it," he reported back to Jaina and the others. "It's pretty close to the engines, and it's working on one of the coolant lines. The line's already starting to leak. You guys have vacsuits, right?"

"Yes," Jacen replied.

"You'll need them to fix this. I don't have enough air left to weld a patch in place."

"What about the bug?" Jaina asked.

"_I'll_ worry about the bug. You guys just get the tools and stuff ready."

Trying to expose himself to the creature as little as possible, Kyp pulled himself far enough over the edge to have a clear space to throw his saber at this bug. After what had happened with the other ones, he didn't feel the pressing need to get up close and personal with it.

He carefully extended his arm back to line up for the throw, and then in one smooth motion flung the ignited saber at the creature. Astonishingly, as the saber spun toward it, the creature began to react, turning a claw-like appendage in an attempt to block it. Kyp nudged the saber and the blade sliced through the appendage before piercing the creature tip-first.

When the creature stopped twitching, he pulled himself over the edge and crawled up toward it to retrieve his saber. Something stopped him when he was only about a meter away, and he looked down at the creature to see a small flash of light where the saber had entered. He bent down-

-and then the creature exploded, showering him with gooey chunks of flesh. He reached up to wipe a piece off his faceplate, but whatever was in the creature's blood had already etched a scar in the surface of his faceplate.

"Kriff, these things have acidic blood! Get the hatch ready, I need to get inside before it eats through my suit!"

As fast as he could, he began hauling himself around the ship to the dorsal surface where the airlock was, barely daring to exhale until he had stepped inside the ship and removed what was left of his flight suit.


	13. Twelve

Note to readers: You may want to go back and read chapter 11 before this, if you did not already. I combined the Intro and Prologue sections, resulting in Chapter 10 being re-numbered from part 12 to part 11, and then uploaded Chapter 11 last week as part 12.

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CHAPTER TWELVE

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Captain Thanan Yates was normally quite a patient man. However, hunting for a legendary lost ship such as the _Outbound Flight_ in an entirely alien galaxy, with absolutely no navigational charts available, was enough to test even the most patient of commanders.

So far, he had been in the alien galaxy for the better part of the week aboard his command, the Loronar Strike Cruiser _Diversion_. It had taken several hours after transiting the wormhole to make sure that they had not suffered any malfunctions aboard the ship, and several more hours to complete a survey of the local star systems and establish their position in the galaxy. Roughly speaking, they were approximately twenty thousand light-years from the galactic core, in a galaxy that appeared to be ten to fifteen percent smaller than their own.

The wormhole system itself hadn't been much help in their search. The only clues to Outbound Flight's existence was a small debris field with traces of durasteel and other alloys, and some other drifting garbage that hadn't been touched in at least sixty years.

They had then jumped to the nearest star system, some twenty light-years away, and had found more signs of activity. In addition to some debris, they found an asteroid that had been mined for yttrium, one of the components of durasteel alloys. But again, the actual ship had eluded their search.

After jumping through several more systems nearby, and coming up empty-handed each time, he had realized that they needed to think like the commander of Outbound Flight would.

_You're in command of Outbound Flight_, he mused. _Your ship has just been seriously damaged and you fled through a wormhole into a strange galaxy. Your first priority is repairs, so you go to a system with the resources to fix the ship. What is your next step?_

Well, that all depended on what the mission of Outbound Flight was, didn't it?

He held up the datapad that the Commodore had given him containing the mission profile and technical specifications of the ship. _Outbound Flight_ was, for its day, a formidable foe. Six Dreadnaughts arranged around a central core, crewed by a mixture of Republic Navy personnel and Jedi.

_Somehow, Thrawn still managed to fight them to a standstill. No mean feat for a commander with only a few picket ships._

He paged through the datapad, eventually finding what he'd been looking for.

_Official mission: To expand the influence of the Republic beyond the known galaxy; to make contact with new civilizations; and to set up colonies on suitable worlds with the intent of later re-integration into the Republic._

A simple enough mission, with enough wiggle room for the commander to do practically anything he wished. No wonder the Emperor had wanted the mission destroyed. A group of Jedi-led holdout colonies outside the galaxy would have been a major setback in his plans. Not that it had mattered in the end.

So, if the mission statement had been more or less followed, then he should find several things. One, if there were any space-faring civilizations in the area, they had probably been contacted by the Outbound Flight and therefore might know where they went. Two, assuming that said civilizations were not hostile or were insufficiently advanced to pose a threat to Outbound Flight, he would find at least one Republic colony. Three, if one of the civilizations was advanced enough to pose a threat, he could find out if they had destroyed the damaged vessel.

It was the third possibility that he found most disturbing, of course, since if a civilization was advanced enough to destroy six Dreadnaughts, he was looking woefully unprepared in a lone Strike Cruiser. Then again, he had at least two advantages they did not: his ship was not previously damaged, and as a scouting mission, he had no qualms about fleeing back to the wormhole if trouble arose. Like most sane military commanders, he held absolutely no faith in the foolish notion of a "fair fight." A fair fight, as far as he was concerned, might as well be suicide.

There was a knock at the door of his quarters, but he barely bothered to glance up. "Come in."

It turned out to be one of the bridge crewmen. "Sir, I have the results of the scan you requested."

"What's the situation?"

"Sir, it appears there is a large amount of subspace comm chatter coming from a point in deep space. Comm-Scan is trying to decode the data."

He nodded. "Let me know when they finish."

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Several hours later, he and the rest of the senior officers were assembled in the situation room along with one of the Comm-Scan signal analysts.

"So, Lieutenant Guyenn, what did you find?"

The analyst took a gulp of water from his glass on the table. "We first had to decode the digital signal. Identifying the carrier timing was the easiest part, but it took several attempts before we understood how the data was formatted. We had been expecting holographic data, but instead all we found was 2D video and audio streams."

Yates nodded. "So that means what exactly?"

"Well, that was our next hitch. While we had the video and audio, we didn't understand a word they were saying. We linked several of our protocol droids into the central computer and we believe they have produced a reasonable, if somewhat rough, translation of some of the messages." He slid a chip into the datacard reader on the table.

"Once the protocol droids had worked out a language database, we began examining the contents of the messages. Most of the traffic on the relay is to be from a race called the Hirogen. They appear to be a predatory species, as most of their communications were related to where the good 'hunts' are located."

He took a breath and continued. "However, we also intercepted what appeared to be several old messages from a United Federation of Planets to one of their ships in this area called Voyager."

Yates shook his head. "That's all fine and well, but what does it have to do with finding Outbound Flight?"

"Well, Sir, I'm sure you are familiar with human history, our origins in particular?"

The captain shrugged. "The common consensus was that we evolved on Coruscant."

"Right," the analyst replied, reaching for a button on the datacard reader. "Watch this."

A two-dimensional frame appeared over the table, which was fairly unremarkable. What was striking, however, was the face in it. A distinctly human face.

"Good work," Yates said after a moment had passed. "It looks like they were pretty busy. Although wouldn't it have been difficult to set up a regional government in only sixty years?"

"But not impossible," Commander Rowin, his second-in-command, replied. "After all, they had the capability to set up six colonies. If those colonies wanted to, they could very well form their own federation."

Yates had known Rowin Opgard for many years. They had started off as enlisted crew aboard a small patrol vessel in the Tungra sector, and slowly worked their way up through the ranks. All in all, Rowin was probably one of the few people that Yates would willingly entrust his life to.

"Which just leaves the question of _where the hell they are_," Yates remarked, then turned to the analyst. "Didn't you say they had a ship in this area? Maybe they were trying to re-establish contact with the Republic."

A thoughtful expression crossed the analyst's face. "There is one way we might be able to find out. We noticed that for some reason, the relay only forwards messages under a certain length. Any longer messages are truncated and I would expect that you would have to have physical access to the relay station to download the full message. So if the station has access and sensor logs, it might just help us identify the ship."

"Well, that settles it then," Yates replied. "We'll get a team together to take a look at this thing. Any other questions?"

The room was silent for a moment. "Dismissed."

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Looking through the shuttle's forward viewport at the massive space station ahead, Lieutenant Phong Guyenn was perplexed. The idea of a race of apparently nomadic hunters building such a station, not to mention keeping it working for years, was simply preposterous.

Then there was the question of, why? Why put a relay station out in the middle of deep space, light-years from anything of note?

The pilot took the shuttle into orbit of the station, which raised another question in Phong's mind. Didn't you need gravity to orbit?

He rubbed at the neck seal on the stormtrooper armor he was currently wearing, and wished he was in the pilot's position instead of being a damned SIGINT analyst. He'd had an uncorrectable eye condition that had disqualified him from being a pilot when he had enlisted in the Navy years ago. As a result, he had fallen back on his civilian training in communications and wound up assigned to Comm-Scan.

The shuttle's pilot continued circling the station until he apparently spotted a docking port. Then he deftly maneuvered the shuttle into place, and locked the magnetic clamps to create an airtight seal around the hatch.

After several attempts at unlocking the hatch, they finally wound up just cutting their way through. The first thing Phong noticed as he, the two other Comm-Scan techs and the squad of stormtroopers assigned to the team stepped through the still-warm hatch was the quiet clicking of the built-in rad meter in the stormtrooper armor. The only good news about the clicking was that the clicks were spread well apart; if it had been an almost continuous tone, he would have had only seconds to get out before receiving a too-large dose of radiation.

"OK, let's focus on finding a computer terminal," he said.

As they began to walk down the narrow corridors of the station, boots clanking on the metal grate decks, he began to see what he at first thought was flecks of rust on the walls. The further they went, the more there was. Finally they reached a junction, and when he saw the giant, brown splatter pattern against the wall, he realized that it wasn't rust.

"Blood," he muttered.

There really was nothing that could help morale more than being on an ancient, dimly lit, blood-spattered space station. If he'd been in a holo-thriller, the only thing that would have been missing was the eerie, tonal music so common to those holovids.

The other techs must have been thinking the same thing, because one of them began whistling a tune from one of the most popular recent holo-thrillers he'd seen. Actually, he corrected himself, the music was probably the best thing from that thriller, which was so predictable as to be boring.

Even so, he wasn't really in the mood. "Knock it off," he snapped at the midshipman.

They continued toward the heart of the station in silence when suddenly, a crimson beam of energy sizzled through the air no more than a foot away from him.

Without any words spoken, the stormtroopers instantly dove for cover along the walls of the corridor, raising their carbines and sending a hail of blaster bolts down toward the source of the beam. Phong and the techs followed suit a moment later. Then they began leapfrogging down the corridor, continuing their suppressive fire, until they reached the end - and found nothing besides ruined machinery and blaster-marred walls.

"What the kriff was that?" he asked in disbelief.

Then there was a clinking noise from the side corridor behind them that took even him only a fraction of a second to recognize.

"Detonator!" he shouted, diving for cover around the corner along with the other troops. But instead of the explosion they had all been expecting, there was a quiet pop and a hissing noise. Moments later, smoke began to fill the corridor.

Detecting the change in visibility, the helmets automatically switched to enhanced vision mode, painting the formerly foreboding atmosphere of the station in vibrant false colors.

Another crimson beam lanced out through the smoke screen, and Phong turned just in time to see a brightly glowing figure duck back into cover.

"Contact at three o'clock," he said, swinging his carbine around and letting loose a quick burst of shots that blew smoking craters in their foe's cover. Once again, the stormtrooper squad began advancing under covering fire only to turn up a ruined packing crate and no sign of the assailant.

They continued advancing down the corridor until it came to a T-junction.

"Split up," the lead stormtrooper, Sergeant Kriglen, ordered. "Five and five. Keep your comlinks open."

Phong smirked slightly. In the holovids, whenever a group split up, it was almost always the first on their path to doom. Most holovid scriptwriters, however, had no military experience and so when they showed a group splitting up, it was almost always each being for itself. The smallest unit that a stormtrooper squad would typically split up into, in contrast, was a three-man fire team.

The other common cliché in holovids was that when a group would split up, either they would not have comlinks, or some technobabble excuse would be made to explain why theirs were not working. The reasons usually given in the vids might have been valid thousands of years before, but after all the time spent on SIGINT through the various wars in the galaxy, the end result had been a communication system that used tight band transmissions, randomly hopping frequencies and heavy encryption. Civilian models were restricted to a smaller chunk of spectrum but were still strong enough to preclude listening in or jamming in most cases. The only sure way to jam a comlink was therefore to put out as much high power hash as possible across the entire spectrum, which typically had the side effect of wiping out your own comms and required the sort of power output usually found on warships.

He somehow doubted these aliens were even familiar with the part of the spectrum that comlinks operated on.

"This side is a dead end," the other squad reported a few minutes later. "It ends at some sort of storage room with no exit. Storage room is clear."

"Return and re-group," Kriglen replied, then turned to Phong and the rest of the squad. "Look sharp. The hostile had to go this way, so chances are he's going to try and set up an ambush."

Phong nodded, mentally noting to keep at the back of the squad just in case. He'd had plenty of marksmanship training as part of his Navy regimen, but being shot at up close and personal just wasn't really part of his job description.

"What I'd give to have a mouse droid right now," one of the troopers muttered to himself.

"Wouldn't work," one of the other troopers replied. "Its wheels would get caught in the grating. Now, one of those repulsor scout droids... that would be perfect."

"Keep it down back there," Kriglen said. "Unless you want me to make you two point men."

"No, Sergeant," they both replied in unison.

"Then move out," he barked.

"Yes, Sergeant."

They began moving again cautiously, and Kriglen called a stop after they had gone about twenty meters forward.

"Laser tripwire," he said quietly, pointing at a small emitter that had been placed across the corridor. "Explosives are probably hidden. Corporal Landot, it's your call."

Rob Landot was the explosives tech of the squad, and was also the heaviest member. When _Diversion_ was on patrol duty in the Outer Rim, some nutcase saboteur had managed to get on board. Rob had just gone off duty when he discovered the saboteur, and without his sidearm had tackled and then suffocated the unfortunate idiot. The exact method had never been disclosed, but the rumors were that he had merely sat on him. Rob, of course, had never confirmed or denied any of the rumors.

"How far are we from the outside hull?" Rob asked.

Kriglen pulled out a datapad and checked. "About one hundred meters."

"Good. Then I won't hit anything important if I use a det," Rob replied. "Smallest charge, of course," he clarified when he caught the questioning look from the sergeant, then pulled one of the small metal spheres off his belt. He tossed it in the air experimentally a couple of times to get a feel for its weight, armed it and sent it rolling down the corridor.

"Damn, I'm good," he said when the thermal detonator rolled to a stop just short of the sensor. Then he took cover behind some obstructions in the corridor, and Phong and the others did likewise.

When it finally detonated, there were two explosions, the second one being larger than the first. The combined effect of both, however, was to send a fireball expanding through the corridor, knocking Phong back on his ass.

After the smoke cleared, the pulled themselves up, dusted the soot off their armor, and carefully moved forward to see what the damage was.

"Well, we wiped out all the oxygen in this area with that stunt," Kriglen remarked as he looked at the damage. Where the detonator had gone off, it had completely vaporized a hole in the deck plating and the nearby wall. Several feet away from it was an even larger gash torn in the metal, which presumably had been caused by the explosives intended for them. "It should be safe to proceed, but watch your footing. Especially you, Rob."

"Thanks a lot," Rob muttered under his breath.

They picked their way through the rubble and continued on, watching for more laser mines or any other traps. None were to be found, however, and they eventually stepped into a large circular chamber.

"Lot of cover here," Phong remarked as he took a step back into the corridor. Almost as soon as he had spoken, there was the _crack_ of a discharging weapon and a orange-yellow beam streaked through the air next to his head. He had taken the safety off his carbine before he'd even thought about it, and had it up and ready to fire off a return shot by the time the second shot came, searing one of his plasteel shoulder pauldrons. His E-11 carbine flared to life in response, followed shortly afterward by the carbines and rifles of his squad mates. For a good several seconds, they blasted away at the accumulated junk in the general vicinity of the shots' origin.

"Move," Kriglen barked.

They dashed forward into the cover of what could possibly have been a ship's bulkhead. After lining up their sights and blasting away for another several seconds, they made another mad dash for another covered location several meters closer to the source, then paused to check their surroundings.

"Lifesigns?" Landot turned to Phong as he asked the question.

Phong shook his head. "I'd need a sensor grid in place. Suit's not giving me anything useful right now... too many shadows and other interference."

"Then I guess we just have to do this the hard way," Landot muttered, pulling another detonator off his belt, arming it, and lobbing it over the stack of debris toward the location of the mystery shooter. "Fire in the hole!"

A moment later, the detonator went off, its shockwave sending debris flying into the piece of armor plating they were all crouched behind. The plate shifted slightly from the impacts and blast wave before starting to creak ominously.

"Kriff, I think you dislodged our cover," Kriglen remarked. "Let's move."

They picked their way through the debris to where the detonator had gone off, finding a small crater and not much else.

"How many exits are there-" Landot began to ask before an orange-yellow bolt slammed into his breastplate, causing him to jerk back reflexively. The plasteel armor held, although there was a scorch mark where the bolt had impacted. "Alright jackass, that's it. Your ass is MINE."

"Don't do anything rash, Rob," Kriglen warned him.

"Rash?" Had Rob's helmet been off, he would have given Kriglen an innocent and offended look. As it was, he simply unclipped a heavier-yield detonator, armed it, and sent it flying toward the origin of the shot. They all hit the deck a moment later, just in time to see the flash from the miniature thermonuclear device as it initiated.

There were no further attempts to shoot at them as they picked their way through the debris toward the epicenter, and when they finally reached it they found a humanoid figure lying on the ground, its metallic armor scorched and blackened but still mostly intact. The humanoid's flesh had been seared in the few places it was exposed, but it was still drawing regular, if weak, breaths.

As the squad assembled around it, blasters pointed at the figure, it let its distorted and damaged weapon clatter to the deck, where Phong kicked it aside.

"Check the perimeter," Kriglen barked. "Make sure there aren't any more of them.

"All clear," they reported after a quick search.

"Bind him, then I want the four of you to take our prisoner back to the transport. Lieutenant Guyenn and the rest of the squad will continue searching for an access terminal."

"At once, Sergeant."

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Trying to figure out how to work the computer terminal, once they had found it that is, was another story entirely. The data that Phong had collected from the transmissions had allowed them to put together a translation database, but the systems aboard the relay station completely failed to follow everything they knew. There were some stickers that had been applied next to the terminal which listed Hirogen words next to the alien glyphs, but there was no way any protocol droid or translation program would be able to infer the meaning of an entire language from a handful of notes.

Which left them with the option of pressing buttons to see what would happen. Phong just hoped silently that the designers of the system had been smart enough to lock away dangerous functionality behind some type of security system, to prevent them from inadvertently blowing up the station or anything else of the sort. So far it had worked out, but every time he tried guessing at an entry on screen he hesitated.

_Calm down_, he told himself. _No sane engineer puts self destruct or reactor control in a terminal without protecting it somehow. In fact, those shouldn't even be accessible from any random terminal!_

Finally he saw one of the entries on the sticky notes, which roughly appeared to translate to "Start". He tapped it, and on the screen one of the alien messages began playing.

"You're recording this, I hope," Kriglen remarked quietly.

Phong reached up and tapped his helmet. "Holocam's on... they're seeing what I'm seeing back on the ship."

"I hope there aren't too many messages saved on this blasted thing," Rob remarked. "Because if we have to stand here and play every message, this could take forever."

"Tell me about it," Phong muttered. "I wish this had a droid socket so we could just download the messages and get out of here."

"Can you tell how many messages there are?" Kriglen asked.

"I'm not sure," Phong replied. "I think I've found the time elapsed, since the glyphs are changing pretty rapidly. Let's see... Huh."

"What is it?"

"I've got twenty-five glyphs on this counter. Base-25 seems like a pretty odd number system. At least that explains the 5x5 keypad."

The message ended shortly after, and Phong leaned in toward the screen. He frowned and pulled out a datapad, then began scribbling notes on its screen. "Looks like there's at least a few thousand messages here."

Behind him, Rob sighed loudly.

"I think there's a data port here," he added a few moments later, pulling out a meter and probes. "Sergeant, can you bring in the slicer droid?"

While Kriglen contacted the transport, Phong began checking the pins on the connector for voltage with his meter. By the time the droid arrived, he already had all of the pins wired up and it only took a few more moments to hook up the signal analyzer. The droid beeped its readiness, and he told it to begin working. The only thing left for them to do now was to sit and wait for the droid to finish.


	14. Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

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"Engineering to Commander Chakotay," Tuvok's voice carried over the intercom. Groggily, Chakotay reached out and slapped the comm panel next to his bed.

"What is it?" he asked, slightly irritated. His alarm hadn't gone off yet, and a quick glance at the clock told him that he'd only slept for about three hours and ten minutes. Too long for a nap, too short for REM sleep. He knew he should have gone to sleep earlier the night before.

"B'Elanna noticed some irregularities in the main computer. Come down here as soon as you can."

"I'll be right there," Chakotay said with a sigh, shutting off the comm. Murphy be damned... they always had problems whenever anything important happened. It was practically the curse of _Voyager_.

He crawled off the berth and staggered to the sonic shower stall, hastily undressed, and climbed inside. "Shower on," he commanded.

Absolutely nothing happened.

"Shower on," he barked at the computer again, with no response. Finally he reached for the manual controls, and was surprised to discover that they were also dead. "Great, just great," he muttered, stepping out of the stall and walking over to the small sink in his quarters. At least the faucet used physical plumbing, he thought thankfully as a small stream of water came out. He quickly splashed some water on his face and then ran his fingers through his hair to smooth it out, making sure to apply gel to keep it in order.

The morning ritual finally finished, he threw on his uniform and exited into the corridor, where he began walking to the turbolifts.

"The turbolifts are down, Sir," a crewman remarked as he passed about halfway there. "You'll have to use the Jeffries tubes back this way."

"Great," Chakotay sighed as he turned around. "So what else isn't working?"

"Anything that operates on voice commands, Sir."

"Terrific," he grunted. They came to the Jeffries tube entrance moments later and crawled inside. Chakotay briefly recalled the main schematic for the ship; his quarters were about six decks above Engineering and fifty meters forward. But the way the Jeffries tubes ran, it would actually take him about seven decks and closer to seventy meters to reach Engineering. He flexed his arms, stretched his back as much as the cramped space would allow, and started crawling down the ladder.

.

.

He finally arrived in Engineering over half an hour later to find a barely controlled scene of chaos. The senior bridge crew were all standing at the consoles near the entrance, so he walked over to Tuvok. "What's the situation?"

"The main computer is running very erratically," Tuvok explained. "We've had subsystem failures all over the ship. Voice control, authentication, waste management... I would estimate that 48 percent of the subsystems are not presently responding."

_What else could possibly go wrong_? Chakotay wanted to ask, but refrained from doing so for fear of tempting Murphy. Instead, he looked straight at Tuvok. "I know this is probably a stupid question, but have you tried restarting the main computer?"

"Considering that would temporarily shut down all essential functions on the ship, including life support, we are considering it the option of last resort. B'Elanna is still running diagnostics in an attempt to locate the problem through normal means."

"All right," Chakotay replied. "Seems she's got things pretty much under control then... I'll go wait in the room down the hall. Alert me if anything happens."

"Naturally, Commander."

.

* * *

.

"Why do we always get general alerts in Spacedock?" Captain Gail Hancock of the _Excelsior_-class starship USS _Hercules_ complained, throwing an angry glare at the bridge dome. Naturally, she reflected, whenever some potentially hostile alien vessel showed up by Earth there were almost no Starfleet vessels around to investigate. She sometimes wondered if the universe was out to get the Federation.

Still, a general alert meant that any nearby starship had to respond immediately. This meant that she had no choice-even if her aging Excelsior was only halfway through its long-overdue refitting process. The ship only had about half of its nominal firepower because the photon torpedo launchers were being upgraded to fire quantum torpedoes, and the antiquated and underpowered phaser cannons were being replaced with more capable phaser strips. The warp drive was still offline for maintenance, for goodness' sake!

She turned toward her helm officer. "Well, you know the drill. Get us out of here as fast as possible, thrusters only."

"Aye, Captain," the officer replied.

Gail glanced up at the viewscreen, noticing one other starship, a four-nacelled _Cheyenne-_class destroyer, begin to slide out of its berth as well. As if two horribly outdated ships would make much difference in the face of a Dominion assault or Borg attack. The _Hercules_ might as well have been re-christened the USS _Speedbump_.

Several minutes later, they passed through the massive doors of Spacedock and were finally able to go to full impulse. The intruder, according to Starfleet Command, was currently holding position near lunar orbit. They'd been very sparing on the details, only saying that multiple unidentified ships had breached the Mars defense perimeter without any warning.

The only question left in her mind was _how?_ The Dominion did not possess cloaking devices, and she'd never heard of the Borg using them. Which left only the Romulans and Klingons, both of which were nominally at peace with the Federation for the time being due to the threat of the Dominion.

"Lieutenant Gordon, can you get me a better view of the intruder?" Gail asked once they had closed to visual range.

A brief moment later, the viewscreen came to life and Gail frowned. The object was certainly massive - the displays were estimating the ship at over a kilometer in length and close to half that in diameter - but what was strange about it was the configuration. The center part of the ship was a fat cigar-shaped cylinder, with a thick framework wrapped around it. Attached to that were five identical ships of a sort she'd never seen before... and what looked like the tip of a saucer?

"Magnify the forward portion."

The computer display zoomed in on the saucer, and she frowned as she noticed some lettering on it. "I think that's Starfleet," she muttered under her breath. "Lieutenant, is the ship broadcasting any IFF?"

"Negative, Captain," Gordon replied.

_Well, it was worth asking_, she thought. "Helm, bring the ship around. Let's see if we can get a better look. Lieutenant Gordon, has there been any response to hails?"

"Not yet, Captain," the lieutenant reported. "I'll keep trying on different frequencies."

A few minutes later, they had moved into view of the opposite side of the strange ship. Nearly everyone gasped as the battered form of an _Intrepid_-class primary hull became visible, its once smooth surface marred by scorch marks and pitting. Some of the worst damage was located where the bridge had once been, which now looked like a twisted, mangled mass of wreckage.

"I can't see the registry number," Gail remarked as she squinted at the screen. "Lieutenant, can you get a clearer image?"

After a moment the screen resolved, showing the ship's registry number of NCC-74656.

Gail's jaw dropped slightly. "My God," she muttered. "It's _Voyager_." She turned toward Lieutenant Gordon. "Get me a reading on their systems. I want to know why they're not responding to hails."

"One moment, Captain," Gordon said, tapping away at his panel. "Main power is out and so are their impulse reactors. I'm getting strange readings from the warp core... ah. Their warp core is completely uncontrolled right now. The reaction could destabilize at any moment."

Her eyes widened. "Helm, take us out to a safe distance. Tactical, shields up. Lieutenant, open a channel to Starfleet Command and get me a readout on the other ships."

The image of _Voyager_ disappeared from the viewscreen an instant later to be replaced by the Starfleet Command logo, before finally showing Admiral Whatley from Starfleet Headquarters.

"Captain, what's the status?"

"Admiral," Gail began, "we have two unidentified ships on a translunar trajectory. One of the ships is connected to USS _Voyager_, to the best of our knowledge. In addition, _Voyager_'s warp core is unstable. Their power is down and we have not been able to raise anyone yet."

"_Voyager_?" the Admiral responded incredulously. "Are you sure?"

"She seems to be badly damaged, but yes, I'm sure it's _Voyager_."

The Admiral had a thoughtful expression for a moment. "Hold your position and keep me informed. I know it's dangerous, but can you beam over a damage control team to stabilize their warp core?"

"Of course, Admiral," Gail replied. "_Hercules_ out." As the screen switched back to show the strange ship and _Voyager_, she turned around to face the tactical station. "Lieutenant Commander, get an away team ready on the double and beam over if it's still safe to do so."

.

* * *

.

"What the hell happened?" Chakotay asked as he ran back into Engineering, trying to not trip in the dim emergency lighting. He rubbed his eyes twice trying to clear up the blurriness, to limited effect.

"I reset the main computer, but after it initialized more subsystems were shut down than before," B'Elanna responded. "Then we tried resetting both the main computer and the backup systems. When the computer came back up, it flooded the warp core with anti-deuterium. Right now we're trying to purge the core but the systems are so screwed up..."

"Core overload in five minutes," the computer pleasantly intoned, as if it were announcing that a cup of coffee was ready.

"And then there's that," she finished. "If the vents don't work, we're going to have to eject it. My only problem is that the eject hatch is pointing right at _Outbound Flight_'s storage core."

"Well, that's simple enough to fix," Chakotay said. "Just release the magnetic clamps on the framework and we'll spin the ship around."

B'Elanna shook her head. "The release mechanism is controlled by the computer. I don't even know if the helm will respond assuming we do manage to detach ourselves."

Chakotay put his palm across his face. "Do we have any sort of backup system for the clamps at least?"

"_Outbound Flight_ does."

"Great. I'll contact Captain Avin and ask him to release us." When he got a look from B'Elanna, he stopped. "Wait... don't tell me that we can't reach them either."

She shook her head and Chakotay leaned his head back to look at the ceiling in frustration. The flickering blue-tinted light of the warp core was casting eerie shadows all over Main Engineering, making the entire deck look like something out of a _Frankenstein_ holoprogram. _What a perfect setting for this_, he thought.

"Then what else can we do?"

"I've already sent one of the crewmen over to D-1 through the pylons," B'Elanna replied. "He should be there anytime now to let them know what's happening. With any luck, they'll get the message in time to allow us to eject."

"Lately, I'd say we've been pretty short on luck," Chakotay remarked quietly.

They were interrupted by a very familiar whining noise, and Chakotay's hand dropped to his phaser as five figures materialized in front of them. When he saw the Starfleet badges on their uniforms a moment later, he relaxed. "Welcome aboard Voyager. I'm Commander Chakotay."

"Lieutenant Cho, USS _Hercules_. What's the situation?"

"Core overload in four minutes," the computer intoned.

Chakotay took a step backwards. "I'll let Lieutenant Torres explain."

The glare that Torres gave him could have cut through duranium, but remarkably she managed to refrain from any sudden outbursts. "We had a computer failure two hours ago," she began. "We were having trouble getting the subsystems to respond, so I finally rebooted the main computer and backups. When the computer came up, it flooded the warp core with anti-deuterium because the rest of the management systems weren't running. Right now we're doing everything we can to contain it until we can eject the core."

"What's the status of the magnetic interlocks?" Cho asked.

"Holding for now," Torres replied, "but barely. We're lucky the computer didn't decide to dump an equal amount of deuterium into the core or we'd all be quark soup right now."

Cho swallowed and nodded. "Yeah... it would be pretty terrible to come home from all the way across the galaxy only to be blown up by your own warp core. Well, we're here to help. What can we do?"

B'Elanna gestured to the other side of engineering, where a number of ensigns were huddled around one of the LCARS panels, apparently engaged in vigorous discussion. "You can go make sure they don't screw this up," she said with a wave of her hand. "I've got enough to worry about with the management systems without having the EPS conduits inhale antimatter."

The lieutenant nodded and started to turn away, then turned back and gave Torres an inquisitive look. "You're not who I think you are, are you?"

"And who might that be?" she shot back at him.

"A wanted Maquis operative?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Long story. Anyway, I actually like serving on _Voyager_... although I'm sure Starfleet Command will have more than a few colorful words for me when we all get debriefed. Now will you quit the small talk and help us stop this overgrown garbage scow from blowing up while we're on it?"

"Yes Ma'am," Cho said, his tone suggesting mirth but his facial expression betraying nothing.

.

.

A minute after Cho and the rest of the _Hercules_ away team walked away, Torres' commbadge pinged.

"Torres here," she said as she tapped it.

"Lieutenant, it's Ensign Chell. I'm on D-1 right now with Captain Avin. He's ready to blow the explosive bolts but wants to make sure you have helm control first."

Torres rolled her eyes. "I'll run a diagnostic but we won't know for sure until we're free." She nodded to Chakotay, who stepped over to one of the LCARS panels and accessed the helm subroutine diagnostics.

"It keeps locking up when it checks for impulse power," Chakotay remarked after several unsuccessful attempts.

"Well no shit, the impulse reactors are still offline," Torres snapped, not caring if Chakotay was her superior officer. "Punch in your override and see if that works."

A moment later the maneuvering controls appeared, with the options for impulse and warp power darkened. "I think I've got it," he reported.

Torres tapped her badge. "Chell, tell Captain Avin we're ready."

There was a dull thud that momentarily vibrated through the deck plates below them, and a quick look at the helm controls told Chakotay that they were free. "Here goes nothing... thrusters to half power."

"Well?" the engineer asked expectantly.

Chakotay frowned. "The system says the thrusters are operating normally... but it also says we're not moving. That can't be right."

"Hmph." B'Elanna pulled out her PADD and began punching data into it. "If I did the math right, we should be accelerating at a rate of 3 meters per second under emergency thrusters. How long have the they been engaged?"

"Fifteen seconds."

She punched the information into the PADD and frowned. "Not enough. We need to have at least one hundred meters clearance before we attempt to rotate."

"Core overload in two minutes," the computer chimed.

Chakotay squinted, trying to do the math in his head. "I'll run the thrusters up to full power for another thirty seconds," he finally said. "That should be enough to get us clear. Can you ask Chell to find out if we're really moving?"

B'Elanna relayed the question, and Chell answered "Yes" a moment later.

"Distance?"

"Fifty meters and increasing," the response came back.

"Let me know when we hit one hundred," B'Elanna ordered.

There was silence as the seconds ticked by, then finally her commbadge beeped. "Range one hundred meters."

"Executing rotation," Chakotay said, tapping the controls again. "Damn it, I can't even tell how fast we're spinning around!"

"Chell?" B'Elanna asked. "A little help here?"

"You've only turned about fifteen degrees," he replied.

B'Elanna sighed theatrically. "Let me know when we hit one hundred thirty so we can stop rotation."

"Core overload in sixty seconds."

She shook her fist at the air. "Damn it, I know! Shut up already!" Then she turned to where Lieutenant Cho was working with the other crewmen from _Voyager_. "Lieutenant, can you restart the impulse reactors and divert all power to shields? We're getting really close to the wire here and if that core cooks off after we eject it..."

"I know," Cho replied. "I think we have one up and running, but the others aren't responding to commands."

"That's only about 10% of nominal shield power," Torres muttered, then spoke up. "Keep me updated."

"Core overload in forty five seconds."

"Chell!" B'Elanna shouted unnecessarily. "Are we clear yet?"

"Only one hundred twenty degrees, Lieutenant."

"Damn it, that's close enough. I'm going to start the ejection sequence."

"Stopping thrusters," Chakotay replied as the doors to Engineering hissed open and Paris walked in.

Chakotay opened his mouth, closed it, then finally spoke. "I thought I confined you to the brig until we reached Earth?"

Tom shrugged. "Well, we're here, aren't we?"

He sighed. "That's not what I meant. How did you get out?"

"Well, first the lights started flickering, then went out along with everything else, including the forcefields. That didn't seem right, so I tried to go to the Bridge except that it was sealed off three decks down. I figured if something was happening, this was the place to be."

"How nice of you to join us," B'Elanna sarcastically remarked. "Don't expect to get all the credit this time."

"Credit for what?" Paris asked with a confused expression.

"Nevermind," B'Elanna cut him short as a new message appeared on the screen of the LCARS station. "Oh come on! Now is NOT the time to jam on us!"

"Core eject sequence aborted. Core overload in thirty seconds and counting."

B'Elanna spun to face Tom, and his face went white. "You're not going to ask me what I think..."

"Damn right," the half-Klingon replied. "I don't care if you have to pound on that hatch with a sledgehammer to open it. Just make sure it opens!"

"Well, I was thinking more along the lines of a phaser set to a cutting beam..." Tom replied as he started running toward the ladder.

"Are you _trying_ to kill us all?" B'Elanna half-screamed.

"I was joking!" his voice echoed up from the deck below.

"You'd better be!"

"Core overload in twenty seconds and counting."

"Cho!" B'Elanna shouted over the ever-increasing racket in Engineering. "How are you coming on those shields?"

"I think we have three reactors," he replied. "Will that be enough?"

"How the hell should I know?" Torres snapped. "I've never had a warp core cook off next to my ship before! Overload the reactors if you have to... just dump all the power you possibly can into the shields!"

"Warnniing. Huull breach on on deck 8. Warning. Warning. Structural integrity system failure. Warning. Life support failure in fifteen minutes. Warning. Core overload in ten seconds. Nine."

B'Elanna spat out a string of nasty-sounding Klingon phrases that Chakotay quite frankly was glad he didn't understand. "At least we still have life support," he remarked with the sort of fatalistic humor that develops in stressful situations.

"Eight."

"TOM!" B'Elanna screamed.

"Almost there!" his voice echoed up.

"Seven."

"Work faster!"

"Six."

"I'm trying!"

"Five."

"GO!"

B'Elanna slammed her hand down on the panel, causing the entire row of consoles to shake.

"Ejection sequence started. Four."

Everyone in engineering turned to watch as the warp core began sliding down. Then, the scene was replaced by the shimmer of a transporter beam and they all found themselves standing in a cargo bay.

"What the hell is it _now_?" Torres snarled.

Lieutenant Cho breathed a sigh of relief. "Relax, I requested an emergency beamout for everyone."

B'Elanna charged over to where the lieutenant stood and stopped scarcely one centimeter from his face. "You IDIOT! There's only thirty or so of us here, which leaves another seventy aboard _Voyager_! You'd better pray those shields hold or..."

"Lieutenant," Chakotay said calmly, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Not now. Let's just go to the bridge and find out what happened."

She let out a long breath, turning around and surveying the cargo bay. Then she stopped and looked around a second time before swearing under her breath. "Where the _QI'yaH_ is Tom?"

.

* * *

.

By the time the computer countdown had reached two seconds, Tom Paris had come to the sudden realization that there was no way it was going to finish its ejection sequence in time. He also was quite aware that standing next to the ejection hatch of a warp core about to overload, it would make no difference whether he tried to run or not.

"Computer, emergency beamout, authorization Paris Seven Three One Alpha," he said, tapping his commbadge.

"Transporters offline," the computer responded. "One."

The light from the warp core, which so far had been consistently pulsating, suddenly dimmed.

"Core breach imminent. All personnel evacuate immediately."

"Thanks a lot, you piece of shit," Paris swore. The light from the warp core suddenly doubled in brightness, and for the briefest of milliseconds Paris thought he saw some sort of pattern form in the flickering light.

Then his world went white.

.

* * *

.

From his vantage point aboard D-1, Captain Avin watched in sheer dumbfoundedness as the underside of _Voyager_, for a brief moment, became bright enough to rival the system's primary star. When Chell had rushed to the bridge to warn him, he hadn't quite believed the lieutenant. Surely a spacefaring civilization would have more failsafes in place on something as dangerous as an antimatter annihilation reactor?

Still, he had activated the charges and jettisoned _Voyager_, then watched as they slowly drifted away. Once they were completely clear of the framework, he had ordered the helm to run the main engines up to maximum thrust and put as much distance between them and _Voyager_ as possible. In this case, that worked out to about six thousand kilometers, enough distance that the shields had been easily able to handle the weak radiative effects of the uncontrolled antimatter annihilation. He was sure they could have handled it even had _Voyager_ been closer, but with over ten thousand colonists aboard he hadn't been about to risk it.

He looked over to where Ensign Chell and several other members of _Voyager_'s crew were working with the comm-scan techs to enable communication. "Ready, Captain," one of the techs finally reported. "Incoming transmission."

"Put it on the holo," Avin quietly ordered.

The holoprojector flashed to life, although instead of displaying the three-dimensional image he was expecting, it only projected a two-dimensional box into the air.

"_Outbound Flight_, this is Captain Gail Hancock of the USS_ Hercules_. Are you in need of any assistance?"

"No, our shields held. What happened to _Voyager_? Did anyone survive that?"

Gail sighed. "We're not sure. The residual radiation is interfering with our scans. We did manage to beam out about thirty of the crew in the engineering section, but that was our maximum capacity for an emergency beamout in the time we had. Another twenty were beamed over to the USS _Nogales_, so I'm told that would leave about fifty people aboard."

Avin turned to face C'baoth, who so far had stood on the bridge and watched the entire event unfold without moving an inch. "Did anyone survive?"

The Jedi Master closed his eyes for a moment before they snapped back open. "Yes, although they are in much pain. Some will not make it."

Captain Avin shook his head. What an end to a long journey for these people. To cross half the galaxy after spending years struggling to return, only to have your ship blow up?

Idly, he wondered what they'd done to incur such misfortune.


	15. Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

.

.

.

"Shields down to 78 percent."

Captain Jean-Luc Picard tried to ignore the shaking on the bridge. _Enterprise_ was being hammered by no less than twelve Dominion attack ships plus one of their massive battlecruisers, and they were only five minutes into the engagement.

"Fire quantum torpedoes, full spread."

"One attack ship destroyed," Data reported a moment later. "I am not reading any noticeable effect on the battlecruiser's shields. They are returning fire."

"Change heading to 055 mark 131," Picard replied. "Evasive maneuvers, pattern Epsilon."

The bridge shook again and the lighting flickered. "Shields at 69 percent," Data observed. "At the current rate of depletion, we will lose shields in six minutes."

"We need to find a way to bring that thing down fast," Riker observed. "There's no way we're going to be able to stay in this slugging match for much longer."

"I agree," Picard replied. "Any suggestions, Number One?"

"If we concentrate our firepower on one specific section of the ship, we might be able to punch through the shields and do some damage."

After a moment's thought, Picard nodded. "Make it so."

Riker studied the readouts from the massive Dominion ship. "What do you think about hitting it here?" he asked Data, highlighting part of the Dominion ship on the LCARS display.

"Their shields appear to be weakest in that section," Data agreed. "We may be able to damage one of their warp nacelles and induce a power surge in their reactor that way."

Riker ordered a channel open to the task force. "This is Commander Riker aboard the _Enterprise_. Target the following coordinates and fire on my mark."

On the viewscreen, they could see the assorted ships of Task Force 11 re-orient themselves toward the Dominion battlecruiser.

"Mark."

Multiple phaser beams struck out at the Dominion ship. At first it seemed as if nothing was going to happen; the beams stopped at the purple-hued bubble of energy that surrounded the battlecruiser. Then, suddenly, they punched through and there was a flash of light as the beams struck the side of the nacelle.

"Direct hit," Data reported. "I am reading a power surge within the ship."

For a moment, the Dominion ship fell silent. Then its assault on the Federation task force redoubled and _Enterprise_ rocked from yet another direct hit. One of the lights exploded overhead, and Picard raised an arm to shield himself from the falling debris.

"Report."

"EPS failure on deck two," Data said. "Shunting excess power through conduits on deck four. Shields holding at 53 percent."

"What's the status of the Dominion ship?" Riker asked.

"They appear to have stabilized the power surge," Data replied. "I am reading only a minor drop in their shield output."

The commander turned back to the viewscreen. "Riker to Task Force 11. Regroup and maintain fire on the same coordinates."

The USS _Mateo_ re-targeted the battlecruiser, suffering several strong shots in return. Explosions blossomed across the hull of the _Akira_-class vessel as its shields collapsed.

"Lieutenant Daniels, give 'em hell," Riker said.

The lieutenant smiled. "Glad to, Sir."

_Enterprise_ turned in a sweeping arc as it brought its armament to bear. Then Daniels unleashed the full fury of the _Sovereign_-class vessel. Searing phaser beams lashed out at the intruder, causing its shield bubble to glow purple where they landed. Dozens of miniature stars appeared and then evaporated as quantum torpedoes impacted the still impenetrable shielding of the battlecruiser.

If the force brought to bear by the _Enterprise_ was like a tornado, then the reply it received from the Dominion was like a hurricane. Phased polaron beams flashed, torpedoes spat out of dozens of launchers, and the pinnacle of Starfleet engineering was battered around like the proverbial rock in a black hole.

One of the ensigns standing behind Picard was thrown forward as a plasma conduit in his console exploded, showering the unfortunate ensign and nearby crew with plastic and metal shrapnel. Fortunately for the captain, the back of his chair took the brunt of the impacts.

"Damage report?" Picard asked.

"Shields at twenty-three percent," Data replied a split second later. "Multiple hull breaches on decks five, eleven and fifteen. Damage to secondary reactor cooling system. Port phaser array is offline."

Picard pushed the comm switch on his armrest. "Mr. Laforge, report."

"I'm not sure what you just did," the engineer's voice came back over the comm, "but I sure hope you don't plan on doing it again. Another hit like that and we could lose containment."

"Objection noted," Picard replied. "Unfortunately we don't have much choice in the matter."

"Understood," Geordi answered. "I'll see if I can divert a little more power to the containment systems in the meantime."

"Captain," Data interrupted, "the Jem'Hadar have entered Benzar's atmosphere."

Picard looked down at his tactical display for a moment. "Plot a course to intercept," he ordered. "We can't allow them to land troops."

"I am detecting Dominion transporter signatures," Data replied. "We may be too late."

"Better late than never," Picard replied. "Engage."

The view from the main screen streaked slightly as _Enterprise_ entered low warp to cover the short distance between the Dominion fleet and the planet.

Seconds later, they emerged from warp over the planet, in front of six Jem'Hadar attack ships. The tactical officer wasted no time opening fire, destroying two and damaging a third in the initial volley.

"I am detecting multiple ships approaching at high warp," Data reported as they began pursuing the remaining attack ships.

"Dominion?" Riker asked.

"Unknown," Data replied. "I cannot identify the warp signature."

Picard looked up with interest. "On screen."

The ships that appeared were fairly flat, appearing to consist of multiple shallow crescents welded together. The curving warp nacelles glowed with a green hue similar to Romulan vessels, but the design was anything but Romulan.

"Hailing frequencies," he said. "Unknown vessels, this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship _Enterprise_. You are in Federation space. State your intentions."

Instead of replying, the ships dropped out of warp within point blank range of Task Force 11 and immediately opened fire. The Federation ships were quick to fire back, and several of the new arrivals were destroyed with multiple well-placed quantum torpedoes-but not before something happened, causing blue arcs of electricity to dance across several of the ships in Task Force 11.

"_Mateo_ has lost all power," Data reported. "Other commanders are reporting random systems failures."

The _Enterprise_ rocked again as two of the Jem'Hadar attack ships concentrated their firepower on the much larger ship. One of the bridge stations' consoles began smoking, and the lieutenant stationed there quickly backed away. The console exploded a second later, sending more debris flying across the bridge and widening the already large cloud of acrid smoke lingering overhead.

"Shields at fifteen percent," Data observed quietly. "Our position appears untenable, Captain."

Picard allowed his shoulders to slump forward in defeat. "As much as I wish it were not the case, you are correct. Signal a full tactical retreat. We will regroup at Arcturus-" A flash on the viewscreen interrupted his order as the _Mateo_ exploded violently. "That is, what's left of the task force will regroup at Arcturus IV."

"Yes, Captain."

"Captain, we have another wave of torpedoes incoming," Data reported.

"Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Data," Picard snapped out. "Have the commanders acknowledged the order for retreat?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Maximum warp to Arcturus. Engage."

The android tapped the commands into his LCARS screen, then paused. "Warp drive is not responding."

Picard activated the communicator controls on his chair. "Mr. Laforge, what is going on with the warp drive?"

"Sorry, Captain," the engineer's voice replied. "That last hit was worse than I thought. We have a bad coolant leak in one of the port nacelle EPS conduits."

"How long will it take you to fix it?"

"I already have a team of engineers working on it. I think they'll be done in five minutes."

"Mr. Laforge, our shields are almost completely drained. We need warp power _now_. Can you do anything?"

A long, uncomfortable pause preceded Laforge's reply. "I can divert power through the secondary EPS conduits, but we'll be limited to Warp 5."

"Make it so," Picard replied.

"Captain, I am continuing evasive maneuvers but there are too many torpedoes to avoid. I estimate time to impact in thirty seconds," Data reported.

"Mr. Laforge?" Picard asked.

"Almost there!"

"Impact in twenty seconds. Shields at sixteen percent."

The tension on the bridge was palpable as the seconds ticked away. "There," Geordi's voice came over the comm. "I think that should do it."

"Engage."

Just as Data reached for the controls, the first of the torpedoes hit and nearly threw several of the bridge crew out of their seats.

"Warning. Shield overload. Structural integrity field compromised," the computer intoned.

A second impact jarred the ship again, and then the stars mercifully elongated as the _Enterprise_ entered warp. Picard let out the breath he realized he had been holding and leaned back in his chair. "Damage report."

"Secondary deflector dish offline. Navigational sensor array has sustained heavy damage and is barely functional. We have lost atmospheric containment on decks eight through eleven... it appears that one of the torpedoes punched straight through the forward portion of the primary hull."

He nodded and thumbed the intercom. "Mr. Laforge, status report."

"We've managed to stabilize the coolant leak for now, Captain," the engineer replied. "We should be able to make warp 7. However, I wouldn't recommend trying maximum warp until we replace the damaged section of conduit."

"Duly noted," Picard replied. "Anything else?"

"No, Sir."

The captain came to his feet, turning toward Riker. "Bring us down to yellow alert, Number One. If you need me, I will be in my ready room writing reports for Starfleet Command."

.

.

* * *

.

.

"Why did I even bother trying?"

There was a brief pause in the cockpit of the YT-2400 freighter _Headwind_ and then a synthesized voice replied in an infuriatingly smooth tone. "I believe you were unsure if you could safely duplicate the transit of the wormhole without killing yourself."

Cathi threw a glare over at the co-pilot's seat, where Orb was sitting motionless. "Yeah, well this isn't much better. We're stuck Force-knows-where trying to find a ghost ship full of Jedi that vanished sixty-odd years ago, with no prospects of getting home anytime soon. It took us two weeks to cross this damned galaxy without killing ourselves, and because of all the extra jumps we had to make I'm not even sure if we have enough fuel to get back."

Orb leaned forward and looked at the navicomputer. "If I am not mistaken, we are still outside the region of space this Federation occupies. Shall I begin plotting our next jump?"

"Well, first off, I think it would be good to know where we are."

"If only that were possible," Orb lamented.

"_Relatively speaking_, I mean."

"Oh! Why didn't you say so? We are approximately one hundred light-years from the provided coordinates, with a margin of error of fifty light-years.

Cathi leaned back in the pilot's seat and stared at the ceiling in frustration. "A margin of error of fifty light-years? Do you know how long that area will take to cover?" She ran through the math in her head... "_That's a hundred and twenty five thousand cubic light-years!_"

"At an average speed, I estimate that we could complete a satisfactory survey of the area within eighty years. That is well within my operating parameters."

"Yeah, your parameters! What about me?"

"The average life expectancy of humans from your homeworld is one hundred thirty-five. In eighty years, you will be one hundred eleven. That is a sufficient safety margin."

"Since when do you know my age?" Cathi snapped.

"If I am not mistaken, you have been forced to provide it on many occasions for the entry forms of various planets. Although you also claim that you are a tourist in most cases, so I suppose that may not necessarily be correct..."

Exasperated, she threw up her hands. "This is absurd. If we're going to do this in any reasonable amount of time, we need to identify the most likely systems instead of just jumping from one to the next. I really wish we had the scanning power of a Star Destroyer right now..."

Orb glanced out the viewport before looking down at the console. "That won't be necessary."

Cathi laughed. "And why is that?"

The protocol droid stiffly raised his arm to point out at space. "Because we have already been found."

Cathi squinted out of the viewport at the brightening speck of light before looking down at the consoles. She quickly isolated it from the other scan results, then pulled it up on the holoprojector.

"We're a long way from the Corporate Sector," she muttered, "but I could swear that thing looks like a _Marauder _corvette."

"The ship's characteristics are all wrong," Orb observed. "The length is over twice that of a corvette, the aft portion is too hemispherical, and it does not appear to have standard sublight engines. Also, if it was a CorpSec ship, they would have already hailed us by now to demand we stop for a customs inspection."

She slumped back in the chair. "Thanks a lot for the datadump, Orb," she said, following her comment with a pronounced sigh. "Well, what do you suggest we do now? Run?"

"If this is representative of the local spacefaring races, then it may be beneficial to see if they know of this Federation. More importantly, they may be able to provide us with current navigational data."

The last part was what made up Cathi's mind. "Alright, we're going to try talking to them. I hope your language database is current."

"My last maintenance period was with my seventeenth master."

"Great. I'm in a new galaxy with an antique protocol droid that was last updated before the Emperor was born, about to meet locals who we know absolutely nothing about. Could this possibly get any better?"

"The ship appears to be transmitting something on subspace frequencies," Orb reported. "Would you like me to attempt to decode the message?"

"YES!"

"There's no need to shout," Orb quietly remarked with what might have been a hint of pain in his synthetic voice. "My aural sensors were not designed for such abuse. Decoding, please wait..."

"Well?" Cathi asked nearly a minute later. The ship was drawing steadily closer; the last time she had checked, the distance was down to three hundred thousand klicks. _I could hit that thing practically blindfolded_, she thought to herself.

"The binary encoding scheme of the audio-2D video stream is unusual, but hardly innovative," Orb replied in what might have been an absent-minded tone if such a thing was possible for a droid. "It uses a simple rotating checksum with only sixteen bits of parity per frame packet to ensure integrity..."

"_I meant, what are they saying?_" Cathi, almost at her wit's end, shouted.

"Oh. I believe they are claiming to be from a place called... _For-ein-gen-ar,_" the droid attempted to pronounce. "The syntax of their language is not very complicated, although it shares no similarities to Basic it does have common traits with several extinct mid-Rim languages." The droid cocked its head for a moment. "They seem to make frequent references to money. Given the apparent context, I do not believe they are pirates, but perhaps they may be merchants of some sort."

"Just get on with it!"

"Very well," Orb said with a slightly depressed tone. "It appears to be a standard hail, if I am not mistaken. Who are you, what is your business in our space, et cetera."

"Can you respond?"

"If it would make you happy, I can," Orb responded in a weak attempt at humor.

Cathi rolled her eyes. "Yes, it would make me _positively ecstatic_. Tell them that we are lost and in need of accurate starmaps. We are also interested in trading for food and other essential supplies."

Barely a minute had passed when the ship abruptly lurched. Apparently the concept of a tractor beam was universal.

"Orb," she said in the same tone a mother might use with a a particularly troublesome two-year-old child, "what _exactly_ did you tell them?"

"I told them only what you said!" the droid protested.

"Was there any chance you didn't translate it accurately?"

"I translated as accurately as was possible given the limited data I had from their language."

Cathi thought for a moment. "So what words did you use when you didn't know the right word?"

"I used words from several of the extinct mid-Rim languages as those were the closest linguistic matches to their language."

"Great," Cathi sighed. "For all I know, you told them that our airspeeder is full of eelworms."

"I am _offended_ that you think I would say such a thing," Orb protested.

"_That's not my point!_" Cathi shouted. "We don't know _what_ they think we said!"

"Actually," Orb remarked, "we will have the perfect opportunity to find out what they thought in just a moment."

"And why is that?" she snapped.

"Because they have pulled us into their hangar bay."

Cathi looked out of the viewport and wanted to laugh. The hangar of the ship was so cramped that the _Headwind_ barely fit into it with its landing gear retracted. Unfortunately, that precluded the use of the main landing ramp, meaning they would have to use an airlock instead.

She reached down to the panel and checked the external sensors. The hangar bay doors had already closed around them, and the hangar was pressurizing with a fairly standard atmosphere. No unusual gases were detected, so at least they weren't trying to poison them either intentionally or by accident.

Then the internal doors to the hangar slid open, and she really had to resist the urge to laugh. The aliens were humanoid figures no taller than the average Bimm. Unlike the Bimmissarii, however, these aliens were rather stocky, with bald heads, orange-tinged skin and what looked like massive earlobes. They actually reminded her of some creatures she'd seen once in a children's holovid about a mad candy maker.

In stark contrast to their amusing appearance, the weapons that the aliens held looked menacing enough. Cathi couldn't tell whether they were blasters or some other type of weapon, but they had a barrel, handle, and trigger. That was enough to define their intent.

"I believe they are asking us to come out with our... legs? ... raised," Orb remarked as the apparent leader of the group of aliens began talking through a loudspeaker of some sort.

Cathi did a double-take. The aliens had two arms and two legs just like most humanoids. "I'm sure they meant arms," she told Orb.

"I certainly hope so. Unlike you, I am most certainly not capable of walking on my hands."

She allowed herself a small chuckle to break the tension. "Orb, get on the external speaker and tell them that we are not going to exit the ship until we have an assurance they will treat us with respect, and that we will only come out unarmed if they put their own weapons aside."

As soon as Orb began to respond, the aliens seemed to get agitated, brandishing their own weapons and shouting wildly. Cathi rolled her eyes and turned to the droid. "Don't tell me, you translated it literally."

"Well, of course," the droid replied.

"What are they saying?"

"They appear to be talking about anatomical impossibilities, yelling what I think are insults directed at our mothers, and claiming that we are their sole property and will be sold for a profit. Oh dear."

"What?"

"I am not looking forward to being sold to some uneducated troglodyte on a world half the universe away with no access to proper technical resources."

Cathi wanted to whack the droid in the head but past experience told her it was a bad idea. The droid's head, of course, was hard metal and her hand was merely squishy flesh.

"You're not getting sold as long as I can help it, even if you are a pain in the ass as a co-pilot and somewhat useless as a translator." She paused to regard the droid's reaction before continuing. "Now, is there some possibility that you were too literal or simply used the wrong translation?"

Orb looked back and forth between Cathi and the aliens outside. "I am learning a wealth of information about this language from their frenzied conversations," he finally said, "and I believe I may have indeed been mistaken."

"Thank the Maker," Cathi sarcastically remarked. "Now will you please say what I wanted you to tell them the first time around?"

"Of course." Orb began repeating her words back to her, and she raised her hand to cut him off.

"Tell THEM, not me! You're so kriffing literal sometimes..."

"My apologies, Mistress Cathi."

This time, the effect seemed to be slightly more calming. The leader of the aliens stepped forward and said something different over the loudspeaker.

"The Ferengi, I believe they are called, are claiming their salvage rights to our ship and cargo. They say they have no intention of harming us."

"That's a nice steaming load of bantha poodoo," Cathi remarked. "Salvage my ass. Tell them that this is a fully functional armed merchant vessel and if they wish to continue their present course of action they will greatly regret it. If they are interested in trading with us, however, we are open to discussions."

The reply this time was very quick. "What do you have to trade?" Orb translated.

Cathi thought briefly. "Well, there is that crate of blasters that the commodore left us with... Tell them that we have powerful handheld energy weapons."

The Ferengi outside bobbed their heads in discussion. "I believe they are asking if we have... ah... visors, or disruptors. I may not have translated that first word correctly."

"Tell them we have blasters. Let's see if they can understand that."

"They are... ah... requesting a demonstration," Orb managed.

Cathi considered the idea for a moment. "Have them set up a target in the hangar, and I'll come out with a blaster to show them. I want you to stay in the ship and translate. If anything goes wrong, use the chin blasters to take them out, otherwise wait for my orders."

"I'm not a battle droid! My programming will not let me intentionally harm a living being!"

"Oh save it," Cathi shot back. "I saw you deck an Aqualish back on Nar Shaddaa."

"Well, he swung first," Orb protested in a somewhat petulant tone.

"These guys are pointing weapons at our ship. Doesn't that count?"

The droid hung its head slightly. "I suppose so."

"Good. Now get on the blaster controls already!"

.

.

While Orb checked the ship's monitors, Cathi went back into the cargo hold and opened up the crate. It was filled with mostly BlasTech civilian models, all of which appeared to be used. _Probably weapons the Imperials confiscated during raids_, she decided.

After sorting through the pile and putting some of the better weapons plus extra power packs into one of the _Headwind_'s storage lockers, she pulled a BlasTech heavy pistol out, checked its powercell, and holstered it. The second weapon she pulled was a civilian hunting blaster, whose conspicuously long barrel would make it all but impossible to conceal and therefore useless for urban use. On the other hand, it supposedly offered high-powered fire even if the cycle rate between shots was very slow.

When Orb gave her the OK, she tapped the airlock cycle switch and waited for it to equalize the pressure. As soon as it was ready, she stepped through, waited for it to cycle again, and then stepped out into the hangar of the Ferengi ship.

"Hyoo-mons," one of the short Ferengi suddenly exclaimed. Cathi instantly paused - _how do they know a word from Basic?_

Then the babbling resumed until their apparent leader stepped forward and began speaking rapidly in another completely different language.

"Orb," she quietly spoke into her commlink headset, "what are they saying?"

"I'm not entirely sure," the droid replied, "but the language they switched to shares vowels and many syntactic references with Old Corellian. I do not understand the vocabulary, but if they continue to speak it I may be able to make contextual inferences."

"Wait," she said to the Ferengi, switching to Old Corellian. Not being a Corellian herself, she had a pretty limited vocabulary mostly picked up from interactions with other smugglers and traders. "Please, keep speaking. I do not fully understand you."

The Ferengi looked at each other and began babbling excitedly in what she assumed was their own language. Then the leader started speaking rapidly in the not-Corellian language again.

"Orb?" she asked again. "Anything?"

"I think he is asking if you are from the Federation," the droid answered.

"No," she told the Ferengi. That word, at least, seemed to be close enough for them to understand. Their leader threw another unintelligible question at her.

"Are you a smuggler?" Orb translated.

She frowned. "Why?"

"The Federation does not allow weapons to be sold," Orb translated for the Ferengi. "So you must be a smuggler."

Cathi shrugged. "Are you a buyer?"

"We are always interested in profitable opportunities," the Ferengi responded.

"Then yes."

The Ferengi looked the hunting blaster over with what Cathi could have sworn was a greedy expression. "How does it work?" he asked.

"Do you have a suitable target?"

He pointed to what looked like a packing crate on the other side. Cathi raised the blaster and sighted the target marked on the packing crate, paused for a moment to catch her breath, and pulled the trigger. Almost instantaneously, the sound of the blaster shot echoed like a thunderclap in the hangar bay and the side of the packing crate exploded into shrapnel and smoke.

While the rest of the Ferengi began chattering excitedly, their leader studied the weapon and his eyes moved down to the holster at Cathi's side. "That one?"

Setting the hunting blaster aside, she drew the blaster and in one quick motion aimed and fired it at a second packing crate. The second crate suffered the same fate, although the effects of the shot were slightly less pronounced.

The Ferengi studied her and the blasters for several more moments, then appeared to come to a decision. "How many do you have?" Orb translated.

"One crate," Cathi replied. "Sixty blasters like these."

The alien reached into his clothing and pulled out a thin bar of shiny metal. "Latinum," he said, which Cathi assumed referred to what he was holding, followed by some babble in his language. "I will offer you ten bars for the crate," Orb translated.

She eyed the metal suspiciously. "May I see it?"

"Do you think I am a cheat?" the Ferengi asked. "I am offended. Gold pressed latinum is one of the few remaining rare substances in the galaxy. It is the official currency of the Ferengi Alliance."

"We just met," Cathi pointed out. "I have never heard of this Ferengi Alliance."

The alien frowned as much as was possible given the facial protrusions. "Where are you from, anyway? You are obviously hyoo-mans, but not of the Federation. We have never seen a ship such as yours, and you have not heard of the Ferengi Alliance?"

Cathi paused to consider her answer, but made up her mind relatively quickly. "I am a citizen of the Galactic Republic," she replied. "Judging by the expression on your face, you have not heard of my government either."

He shook his head.

"Then that makes us equal. Now may I inspect this currency so I know that you're not trying to pass some inferior grade material off on me?"

Reluctantly, the Ferengi handed the piece over to her. She pulled out a small hardness tester and made several scratches on the surface of the metal, which amusingly made the alien cringe. Then she checked the reference table attached to the tester, which concluded that the material was somewhere in between gold and platinum on the hardness scale. The only other material in that category would have been lead, but her scraping hadn't removed any plating that would suggest such a blatant forgery.

Then again, the price of such an alloy wasn't as high as the Ferengi seemed to believe it to be. "Fifty bars," she replied.

"Would you have me feed scraps to my crew?" the alien objected. "Ten is my price. No more."

Cathi shrugged. "I'll just have to find another buyer." She turned and began walking back toward the airlock when the Ferengi seemed to recant.

"Twelve bars."

She made a show of considering the offer. "I still think I can find someone else."

"Fifteen!"

Cathi walked back. "Maybe you are worth talking to. How about forty-five?"

"I would still have to feed my crew scraps! Seventeen, no more."

"Thirty?" Cathi suggested.

"Nineteen," the Ferengi stated.

Several thoughts occurred to Cathi. "What do you call the human language?"

"English," the Ferengi replied. "Why do you ask?"

"I'll take twenty bars, a copy of the local starmaps and an English dictionary."

The alien paced back and forth several times with a disgusted expression on his face. "This is robbery," he spat out.

"If you want the blasters, you pay my price."

He continued pacing for several moments before finally making his decision. "Deal. Bring out the merchandise and you get your payment."

Cathi sighed; some things never changed no matter where one went. "Show me the payment and then I'll bring out the merchandise."

After some muttered curses, the Ferengi reached into his robes and pulled out a stack of the small bars.

"The starmaps and dictionary, too," she said.

He turned around and shouted something at one of the other aliens, who disappeared back into the ship for several minutes before returning with a small electronic device.

She motioned for him to wait there, and went back inside the ship for the crate. It proved heavier than expected, and when she reached the airlock, she realized that it was too big to fit through.

"Kriff," she muttered, slapping the airlock override and confirming that yes, she wanted to open the ship up to outside gases.

"Do you have an empty crate?" she asked, sticking her head outside the ship to face the Ferengi. They immediately responded by bringing several of the oddly shaped black crates forward. "OK, make a line... I'll pass them out to you."

By the time she had finished emptying it, they had filled up two of their own crates up with the blasters.

"Now hand it over," she told the short Ferengi leader. She could have sworn that his orange-hued face was twisted up in emotions as he slowly released the metallic bars.

Once he had handed the last of the bars over, along with the electronic pad, she smiled. "See? That wasn't so hard. Now, unless there's anything else we'll be on our way."

The leader frowned for a moment while Orb translated, then turned to some of the other Ferengi and had a brief side discussion before turning back.

"Would you be interested in performing a small job for us?"

Cathi raised an eyebrow. "And what would that entail?"

The Ferengi picked at one of his teeth. "There is a colony world which paid for a shipment of food, medical supplies, and arms several weeks ago. We have not been able to deliver it as the colony is currently blockaded. Your ship seems like it would be well suited for breaking the blockade and delivering the supplies; in return, we would pay you..." He paused for the slightest of instants in thought. "Another fifteen bars of gold-pressed latinum."

_Do we really have to go through this again_? Cathi inwardly sighed. "Let's just call it twenty-five and be done with it. I have fuel and other supplies to worry about."

The Ferengi's voice turned into a high-pitched squeal that reminded Cathi a little too much of a Gamorrean. "The latinum I already paid you was several days' worth of food for my crew!" He turned toward the other Ferengi, who nodded in agreement. "But if that is how you will have it, then we will pay the twenty-five bars. We will just have to go hungry for _another_ week."

Cathi tried hard not to laugh. _They were playing the sympathy card? Cheeky, greedy little bastards. Well, you know what? It's not going to work this time. They're still making plenty of margin off this stuff... no competent merchant would accept less than twenty percent profit on legitimate goods, much less gray or black market stuff. _

"I accept," she answered in a neutral tone, thoroughly enjoying the horrified looks on their faces as they realized she had seen right through it. _Oh, yes. Two can play at this game._ "So, where is this colony located?"

.

.

* * *

.

.

"What are your findings, Lieutenant?"

Lieutenant Phong Guyenn picked up his datapad in response to Captain Yates' question. "We completed the analysis of the transmissions we copied off the relay station. Over three-quarters of the traffic on the relay is related to the Hirogen and their hunting activities. In the remaining messages, we found four from the _Voyager_ ship and the Federation. It seems that _Voyager_ has been stuck in this region of space for the past five years and has been limping home at around 2,000 times the speed of light.

"And where is it that they call home?"

"The capital of this Federation appears to be a planet called Earth. There were no maps or any data that would identify where Earth is, but we do know from their messages that it is about fifty-seven thousand light-years away from here."

"On the other side of the galaxy," Yates said, nodding. "Well, if we knew exactly where it was, that wouldn't be much of an issue. But we don't have any good maps, so it may take us a while to get there."

"Right, Sir," Phong replied. "However, the Hirogen appear to be aware of _Voyager_. There were references to their boarding it on two occasions, and in the second case they actually took over the ship for a period of time. If we can locate those Hirogen, they may know the location of Earth."

"Our captive has not been very talkative," Commander Rowin remarked. "If we want him to give us the location of the others, we may need to persuade him further."

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Yates asked. "The only thing we think we know about the Hirogen is their distinct _lack_ of social structure. Every individual seems to be on their own. I'm not even sure how they have survived this long as a species. Surely they have a need to procreate?"

"Either that or they are practically immortal," Rowin replied. "The longer the lifespan of a species, the slower the reproductive rate usually is."

"Well, if we combine that with their behavior, I would say that they've stagnated to the point of suicidal indifference. They practically _live_ for the hunt now. So, if we want him to talk, what can we threaten him with?"

"Maybe we should approach it differently," Rowin remarked. "Instead of threatening, we could offer an incentive to cooperate."

"They're nomadic hunters," Yates replied. "What could they possibly want from us, besides mounting our heads as trophies?"

"We could always ask," Rowin said with a shrug. "Besides, unless like you feel like keeping him locked up in the brig indefinitely, we're going to have to let him go at some point. His freedom could be our bargaining chit."

"Only question now is whether he will give us what we need," Yates agreed.

Rowin gave his chair a push away from the table. "Let's find out."

.

.

When they reached the cell block, one of the guards ushered them toward the interrogation room, where the Hirogen was seated at a table, his hands bound behind him. The walls of the room were smooth and featureless, and a protocol droid was waiting in a corner of the room.

Walking around, Yates finally was able to get a good look at the Hirogen. When the captive alien had first been brought in, his features had been obscured by the metallic armor he was wearing. Now, with the armor removed and replaced by plain prisoner's clothing, he had a much clearer look at its facial features.

When Commodore Mantrel had told him that he was going to be exploring a different galaxy, Captain Yates had not quite known what to expect of the aliens there. Perhaps they would be vaguely bug-like, or maybe they would be some sort of gelatinous mass. He hadn't even tried to guess the number of appendages, tails, or other evolutionary quirks that they might possess.

Looking at the Hirogen, however, he realized that what could have easily been a near-human species was _not_ what he had expected. Its face may have been encrusted in bony protrusions, but there was no mistaking the stereo eye arrangement, the flared nose, the mouth directly below, or the ears on the sides. The proportions were even roughly similar although the alien stood closer to the height of the typical Wookiee than a nominal human.

Shaking his head briefly, he took a seat across from the captive. Commander Rowin simply folded his arms and leaned against the wall of the room.

"So," Yates began, "how are you?"

After the protocol droid translated the question, the hunter's eyes moved back and forth between Rowin and Yates although he said nothing.

"What do you know about a ship called _Voyager_?"

Again, the droid translated the question and again there was no answer.

"Let me start over," Yates finally said. "I am Captain Thanan Yates of the Republic Survey Corps. We are looking for a ship lost in this region which may be _Voyager_."

"So?" was the droid's translation of the Hirogen hunter's reply. "How is that my concern?"

"There was a message on your relay station that was intended for _Voyager_. We also know that you, or other Hirogen hunters captured _Voyager_ at some point. Where are they?"

The Hirogen seemed to slump. "I am not one of the hunters," he admitted. "I am a tech. My task is to maintain the relay station."

"Then why did you open fire on my men?" Yates retorted.

"They were intruders."

"We tried to contact you before we boarded," he replied. "You did not respond."

"It is not my task," the Hirogen tech replied. "I maintain the station."

"You mean to say that this has not happened before?"

"No. We are feared by most. They do not disturb us."

Yates walked across the room several times before speaking again. "Where can we find the other hunters?"

"I would not recommend doing so," the tech warned.

"Why?"

"They only care for the hunt," he replied. "They will treat you as prey the moment you arrive."

"Then we will have to show them that we are hunters also." Yates answered. "They are our only link to the ship we are searching for. Where can we find them?

"There is a station they sometimes meet at, concealed in a nebula thirty light-years away," the tech said. "If you take me back to the station, I can show you the location on the charts."


	16. Fifteen

.

_**15**_

.

Hanging halfway out of an access panel approximately three meters above ground on a berthed starship was not the best time to get a sharp shooting pain in your ankle, Jacen realized. Especially when said sharp shooting pain was caused by a stubbornly slow-healing gash from an alien weapon.

Grimacing, he put his hydrospanner down and tried to let the Force wash the pain away. It helped a little bit, but there was still a lingering burning sensation that he couldn't quite eliminate.

Trying to get his mind off the pain, he looked out across the hangar floor of the Great Temple. Directly opposite the _Rock Dragon_ was Kyp's X-wing, sitting in a mostly disassembled state for the time being as he and Lowbacca cannibalized parts from a salvaged fighter to fix it. The port S-foils and most of the external plating had been removed, allowing access to the damage from the strange space creature.

He looked down at the hydrospanner and shook his head. When Tenel Ka had spoken to her mother on their return to the Praxeum, the Hapan queen had immediately wanted her daughter to bring the _Rock Dragon_ to one of the shipyards in the Cluster for repair. Jaina, however, had talked Tenel Ka out of the idea, convincing her that they had all the parts they needed already.

Predictably, they hadn't. A Hapan courier had arrived three days earlier with a new main power conduit and other parts to replace the ones damaged by the alien creatures. The end result was that he had spent far too much time crawling around the ship with Jaina barking instructions out at him. Sure, he was pretty good at fixing simple things-his dad wouldn't have had it any other way-but when it came to troubleshooting a malfunctioning system, Jaina and Anakin were much better.

"What's going on?" Jaina's slightly irritated voice filtered through a nearby hatch. "Just how long does it take to put in a new reverse power coupling?"

He sighed. "It's already installed... go ahead and test it out."

There was a slight pop as she applied power, followed a few seconds later by a slightly louder sizzling noise. Jacen turned around as quickly as was possible in the cramped space, and saw-

"Turn it off!" he shouted. "There's a short here!"

The sparking stopped a moment later, and Jacen leaned forward to see what the cause was.

"I can't tell what it is," he said after studying it for some time. "It's just a melted blob."

"All right, get out of there and let me take a look," she replied.

Awkwardly, he levered himself back up onto the hull of the _Rock Dragon_, wincing as his heel dragged over the edge of the access hatch. Trying to come to his feet was yet another exercise in agony, as icy, burning spears of pain shot through his leg.

A moment later, Jaina brushed past him without a word and hopped down into the hole. "Yep, that's what I thought... the power surge from when that ugly _thing_ chewed through the main conduit must have overloaded the relay here. Good thing we caught it, or it would have left us stranded somewhere. Can you go run and grab another relay from the spares bin?"

"What kind of relay is it?" he asked absent-mindedly, trying to ease the echoes of pain that were still radiating up from his heel.

"A 500J-LR235," Jaina shot back a moment later. "You know what, get two. The one next to it's got cracks in the housing."

Jacen pulled himself back to his feet and immediately regretted it. "I don't think I can really run right now."

She popped her head out of the panel, looked at Jacen, then hoisted herself up. "Sorry... I forgot your ankle was still acting up. You need help getting down?"

"I'll manage," he lied.

Jaina gave him a glare that seemed as though she was looking right through him. Which was true, in a sense. "Sure you will."

.

After getting the _Rock Dragon_ functioning two days later, they left for Sernpidal. Leia had contracted a still unknown infection almost a year previously, which forced her to resign her position as Chief of State. After her condition continued to worsen on Coruscant, she and Han made the decision to move to a relatively undeveloped world in the Outer Rim. Lando had suggested Sernpidal due to some business interests he had there, and surprisingly Han had agreed to give it a try.

Jaina silently watched the unassuming, white-capped ball of verdant green, azure blue and mottled brown grow larger through the forward viewports. Her parents had moved there only a couple months before, with the help of Anakin and Chewbacca. She and Jacen had been tied up on a mission on the other side of the galaxy at the time, which made this the first time she had been to Sernpidal.

She shook her head and tried to focus as Tenel Ka brought the Hapan transport into the atmosphere. There was a brief flash of plasma around the ship when they hit, which disappeared as soon as the repulsors activated. Then, the view of the planet's disc from space was replaced with horizon as they lost altitude. She picked out snow-capped mountain ranges, tiny lakes and meandering rivers as they shot past them, finally coming up on a downright diminutive city near the edge of a large, grassy plain. Although it didn't seem to have any buildings over three stories in height, there nevertheless was a busy air about it. Jaina noted with some amusement that the spaceport consisted of a few crumbling concrete pads and a long runway for airskimmers.

_Even Mos Eisely's spaceport is bigger than this_, she thought.

"Your parents live about seven kilometers to the northeast, correct?" Tenel Ka asked.

"That's what they said," Jaina replied.

Less than a minute later the _Rock Dragon_ arrived at the house. As they settled down on a cleared field beside the familiar disc shape of the _Millennium Falcon_, Jaina unbuckled her restraints, jumped up, and ran out of the cockpit – only to crash headfirst into her brother, who probably had the same idea.

"Are you two combatants knocked out yet, or do I have to bash your heads together again?" Tenel Ka asked in a deadpan tone as she approached the twins as they were lying on the floor. She offered Jacen her hand as Jaina climbed to her feet.

"Ow. Don't remind me." Jacen reached up and rubbed his forehead where he'd smacked into his sister.

"For a Jedi, you are remarkably clumsy at times," Tenel Ka observed with a smile on her face. "Whatever am I going to do with you?"

"Well, your grandmother thought you captured me for marriage. What more _can_ you do with me?"

The redhead tilted her head slightly to one side. "Do you really wish to know the answer to that question, Jacen Solo?"

Laughing softly, Jaina stepped in between the two Jedi. "Alright, knock it off you two. You know the rules. No kissing while Mom and Dad are around."

"We are not kissing," a suddenly serious Tenel Ka protested. "Nor are your parents present."

Jaina winked at her. "But you know you want to." Then she turned and walked toward the ramp, glancing back when she reached the release button. Tenel Ka's slightly freckled pale cheeks had flushed a bright shade of crimson red, and Jacen was having trouble keeping a straight face. _So the feelings _are_ still there,_ she observed, _despite all of their denials_.

The landing ramp hissed downward, and there was a sudden roar of recognition behind her. Then a massive, furry brown blur flew past her and down the ramp before tackling Chewie. As the two Wookiees landed in a heap, growling and roaring, Jaina reflected that if she hadn't known about their customs she would have thought that Lowie was attacking his uncle.

As Chewbacca and Lowie continued catching up in rapid bursts of Shriiywook, Jaina walked down the ramp and toward the house.

Apparently alerted to their arrival by either the roar of the landing ship or the continued roars of the two Wookiees, Han was already standing on the front porch of the spacious house.

"So my little girl's come to pay us a visit finally," he said with his typical lopsided grin. As she approached and he looked at her face, the grin changed to a frown. "What's with the eyepatch?"

"Long story," Jaina replied with a sigh. "I got hit with some kind of poison that blinded it. I think I'm going to have to get a bionic replacement eventually."

Han let out a low whistle. "Those aren't cheap. Do you want us to get one for you?"

She shook her head. "No, please. Don't worry about me. I'm old enough to take care of myself now... I mean, I'm a Jedi Knight for crying out loud!"

"You're also my daughter," Han replied. "It's my job to worry about you." He turned to look at the ship behind her. "So... where are those two lovebirds, anyway?"

She turned around to look at the ship.

"Hiding in the bunks, huh? You'd better go... interrupt them before they get too serious," Han said with a teasing tone.

Jaina snorted. "You know Jacen. Shy as hell. He still hasn't worked up the nerve to kiss her since she kissed him at that celebration at the Academy a couple years back."

Han adopted a wounded look. "I thought I would have rubbed off on him more. He was _supposed_ to be a regular scoundrel like his dad."

"Funny," she replied. "I thought you would have realized something was amiss back when he started being more interested in plants and animals than fixing ships." She turned back toward the house and the two Wookiees. "Anyway, how's Mom doing?"

Han's face darkened. "She's struggling," he finally said after a long pause. "You know how there were about twenty other people who caught the same disease? Well, she's now the only survivor. The last of the others died about a week ago."

"That's horrible," Jaina replied.

"I know. The doctors think the Force meditations she's been doing might be the only thing keeping her alive this long."

"What about Cilghal? Didn't she come out here a couple times?"

"Poor girl worked herself sick trying to do that purification thing she does," Han answered. "Leia improved for about a month afterward before relapsing. Nobody's seen anything like it before... almost like this disease sprung up out of nowhere. Thank goodness it doesn't seem to be contagious."

Jaina slowly shook her head. "And did the NRI find out who was responsible yet?"

"They think it was some two-bit tinpot dictator named Nom Anor. Everyone who caught the disease was in contact with Anor around three years ago. The whole thing was related to some sort of anti-technology movement on the planet Rhommamool. I don't even know why Leia bothered meeting that lunatic in person."

"But they got him, right?" Jaina asked, spotting Jacen exiting the ship.

"Nope. Not a chance. Two days after Leia met him, Rhommamool's twin planet Osarian fired off their entire strategic missile arsenal at them. It was absurd, something like fifty thousand warheads. Irradiated most of the planet for hundreds of years. I'm not sure who was more pissed over the incident-the sector government or the Senate. The Navy sent in one of the new Mon Cal cruisers, but it arrived an hour too late to do anything.

"That sucks," Jaina remarked. "I remember Mom said that it was a complete disaster. Didn't that sector get fined by the Senate for failing to enforce local strategic weapon limitations?"

"Something like that," Han agreed as Jacen walked up behind his sister. "Hey kiddo. You got something on your face."

Jacen reached up to touch his face where his father had been pointing at, and then realized that he had been pulling his leg.

"Don't worry, I won't tell your mother," Han half-whispered conspiratorially.

He rolled his eyes. "Right. Thanks, Dad."

"Oh!" Jaina grinned. "Dad, you know how we told you we were going to be stopping by Dathomir? Well... when we landed and went to meet Tenel Ka's grandmother, she thought that Tenel Ka had _captured_ Jacen!" She burst out in a fit of giggles at the memory, and after a moment Han also cracked up, then slapped Jacen on the back.

"What didn't you tell me you were getting married?"

This time Jacen tried to play along. "Well, I was going to but we couldn't decide on the invitations. Then Tenel Ka didn't know whether she wanted the ceremony to be on Hapes or Dathomir. We finally went to an all-night chapel at a casino on Nar Shaddaa."

"I bet Teneniel and Isolder were thrilled," Han deadpanned. "So did you enjoy the honeymoon?"

"Honeymoon?" Tenel Ka suddenly asked from behind them, causing Jacen to jump slightly. "Who got married?"

"Apparently we did," Jacen said, giving an almost-perfect imitation of his father's trademark grin.

One eyebrow went straight up. "Aren't you supposed to ask the girl _before_ you marry her? Or is it a custom here for marriages to take place without the bride present?"

"Actually, it is." He gave her a funny look. "What, you don't remember signing the papers?"

"It is difficult to remember something that never occurred," she stated in a very matter-of-fact tone that suggested the joke was finished.

"Right. Sorry," Jacen replied.

Despite all of her brother's efforts to improve Tenel Ka's sense of humor, the warrior / princess still had some difficulty picking up small nuances and implied meanings. "Relax," Jaina said, leaning toward the red-haired girl. "I was telling Dad what happened at Dathomir and it sort of went downhill from there."

"Ah." Tenel Ka nodded, looking over at Jacen who winked at her in return. "Aha."

After a long, awkward pause, Han cleared his throat. "Well, let's go inside and see how Her Worshipfulness is doing, shall we?"

.

They found Anakin sitting across from the bed where Leia was resting. As usual, he had some unidentifiable piece of electronics in his lap, and a number of tools were strewn about at the foot of the bed along with bits and pieces of other components.

"Hey guys," he said, jumping up to greet them. After they had all exchanged greetings, Jaina pointed to the bed. "So how's Mom feeling right now?"

"She's been better," Anakin replied. "It usually helps when she goes outside, walks around, and rests out there. I don't know what happened today, but Dad and I found her collapsed on the ground near the garden.

Jaina turned to get a better look at her mother. Her skin was pale and blotchy. Her cheeks, which she had always remembered as being full and rosy, were now stretched tightly against her face.

She dropped to her knees at the side of the bed. "Mom?" she asked softly, taking Leia's hand - which felt thin and bony compared to before - and clutching it gently.

Leia stirred, slowly turned toward Jaina and opened her eyes.

"How are you feeling?" Jaina asked.

She gave her daughter a weak smile. "I'm still alive, aren't I?" Then the smile turned into a frown. "Are you injured?"

"We went to investigate some strange events further out in the Tingel arm," Jaina explained. "Jacen and I were attacked by some sort of alien agent. He had this weird staff-like animal that was able to block our lightsabers and spit poison. I got some in my eye and he used it to cut Jacen's heel."

Leia glanced around the room at everyone. "You kids have to be more careful. I don't want to lose any of you."

"Uh, I'm OK," Jacen quickly said. "I can walk - it hurts a little but it's healing."

"And your eye?" Leia asked, looking directly at Jaina.

"It's blind," Jaina admitted.

She shook her head slowly. "You're both Jedi. You should know better than to get yourselves into a situation you can't get out of."

They both nodded. "We know."

"Good." She smiled again. "How long will you be here with us?"

"About a week," Jacen replied. "Uncle Luke has us and other Jedi spread out through this area of space, watching to see if there is any more activity or other attacks. He said he'll be stopping by to check in with us before he goes to Coruscant."

A flicker of concern passed across Leia's face. "Do you think we're in danger here?"

He shrugged. "It looks like the aliens are based in the Helska system, which is right on the edge of the Tingel arm, almost into Wild Space. So far, all we know they've done is attack an ExGal observation station on Belkadan, destroy a few merchant ships and a pretty well-armed pirate ship."

She slowly nodded. "Well, I'm sure you'll let us know if you find anything, right?"

"Of course."

.

They all walked back into the kitchen area, where Tenel Ka stopped Han. "Have you been in Sernpidal City recently?"

"I haven't, but Chewie was there looking for some parts for the _Falcon_ a couple days ago," Han replied.

Tenel Ka turned and stepped through the front door, onto the porch where the two Wookiees were still, apparently, having their conversation.

"Chewbacca," she began, "did you see anything unusual when you were in Sernpidal City?"

The Wookiee momentarily gave her what might have been an annoyed look before saying something.

"He asked, what do you mean by 'unusual,'" Han translated from behind her.

She re-phrased the question. "Did you see anyone who seemed out of place, or was acting suspiciously?"

Chewie gave a short bark for "no."

"Look, Princess," Han said, "things out here aren't like they are on Hapes. Sernpidal City is the closest thing to a trading town in this part of the sector, but it's a far cry from Mos Eisely. The city's almost completely natives, only a handful of spacers pass through here. And I'd dare you to find me a spacer who _isn't_ unusual."

"You are not," she observed.

Han looked slightly offended. "Come on," he protested. "I'm a Corellian who got kicked out of the Imperial Starfleet for saving the life of a Wookiee, who now happens to be my co-pilot. I fly an antique rustbucket of a tramp freighter that keeps breaking down, _and_ I'm married to an Alderaanian princess who was also the Chief of State of the New Republic! We have three kids, all of whom are Jedi. How is that _not_ unusual?"

She tilted her head to the side in contemplation. "I suppose, when you put it that way, it could be considered unusual."

Han threw up his hands and smiled. "Thank you."

There was a loud yelp from behind, and he turned to look outside. "Right, Chewie. The sun's going down." He turned back to face Jacen. "How do we want to do this? Do you and Tenel Ka want to share a room?"

Jacen was dimly aware of his cheeks flushing some embarrassing shade of red. He was about to reply when Tenel Ka answered for him.

"Thank you for the offer, but that will not be necessary. I can sleep out in my ship."

Han's expression changed to a pained look. "We have plenty of rooms for everyone. I was just joking about you two sharing a room, anyway. Her Worshipfulness wouldn't allow it."

She thought for a moment before speaking again. "In that case, I suppose that would be acceptable."

.

The following day, after going through all the usual motions of breakfast, the four Jedi piled into an enclosed landspeeder with Han.

"Never thought you were the landspeeder type," Jacen remarked as they rocketed out over the grassy meadows toward the city.

"Son, if it moves, I can fly it," Han replied.

Lowie chuffed a question, and Han raised an eyebrow.

"Well, maybe not always on the first try."

The Wookiee made another remark.

"What, do you think you could fly something without controls? I'd like to see you try!"

Lowie gave an affirmative bark.

Han turned to look over at him. "Just how do you plan on doing that?"

While Jacen missed most of the details, he did catch the gist of the explanation.

"So let me get this straight," Han said after processing it. "You would wire in controls? Well, I could do that too, but then it wouldn't be a ship without controls anymore, would it."

"Dad, pay attention," Jaina quietly reminded him. The landspeeder was hurtling toward a small group of trees. He put it into a hard turn, managing to avoid the trees, then there was a loud scraping noise as the bottom of the landspeeder skimmed over an exposed rock.

Han threw a glare at Jacen. "You're fixing that."

"What did I do?" His expression was equally indignant.

"You started the conversation," Han answered, before catching the still-sour expression that Jacen was wearing. "You of all people should know when I'm kidding."

"About fixing the speeder or blaming me?"

"Don't start slowing down on me now, Jacen. Of course I mean both."

"Uh-huh."

.

The only way that Jacen could tell they had entered the city limits was because the buildings had become more closely packed. However, he still had yet to see a building higher than two stories.

"Don't let the appearance fool you," Han remarked. "This city also has a seedy underside."

"And where might that be?" Jacen asked.

"Downtown." Seeing the disbelieving looks he was getting, Han added, "Yes, there actually is a downtown. Only bad thing about it is that they roll up the sidewalks at night."

"That must be difficult," Tenel Ka remarked in complete seriousness. "What do they make them with? Flexible duracrete?"

Jacen couldn't help himself, and his pent-up mirth suddenly erupted as a loud snort followed by laughter. A few seconds later, everyone in the car was laughing so hard they were grabbing at their sides.

They continued zipping through mostly similar-looking streets, finally coming to a part of town that had more three and four story buildings that for the most part appeared to be built either out of rough-cut stone, clay blocks or permacrete. In some cases, the buildings were a mixture of the three.

"So, is the water here even safe to drink?" Jaina asked as she looked at the somewhat crude buildings.

Han snorted. "Yeah, I checked. They have a proper filtration plant here, believe it or not."

Finally, he pulled up and stopped in front of yet another nondescript block building. "Jacen, you wanted the seedy underside, so here it is."

"_This_ is it?" Jacen asked, then muttered under his breath "You have to be kidding."

There was a small sign, letters peeling off, that said "Cantina" mounted over the door. He took a breath and stepped inside, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

The cantina was nearly empty. Recorded jizz-wail music was playing over the speaker panels; there was no band in sight. A Duro was sitting over in one corner, nursing his drink while a furry Talz was seated at the bar; the rest was filled out with a mix of Sernpidalans and humans.

"Hey, Han." The bartender waved a hand as they entered. "What's the occasion? You don't usually bring company."

"Aldred," Han said to the bartender, "these are my kids Jacen and Jaina, Chewie's nephew Lowbacca, and their friend Tenel Ka."

Aldred nodded and shook their hands. "So, what brings you all out here? Just visiting?"

"Sort of," Jacen answered. "We're Jedi."

The bartender took a step back and his expression soured noticeably. "Well then, you've probably found the wrong place. I don't do anything illicit here."

"We're not here for anything like that," Jaina said as she stepped up to the bar. "We've been hearing rumors of some pretty strange stuff going on in this part of the galaxy and wanted to know if you'd heard of anything.

"Strange?" Aldred asked. "No, you've _definitely_ found the wrong place. The strangest thing that happens around here is when two drunks get into a fight. Now _that_'s something the town can come and watch." He looked the group over. "Well, can I at least get you Jedi anything?"

"I'll take a cup of caf," Jacen said.

"Black or sweetened?"

"Sweetened."

"And the rest of you?" the bartender asked as he began pouring the hot caf.

They all ordered their drinks and then stayed in the cantina for about an hour, talking to some of the spacers inside. Han threw some credit chits to Aldred, and then they all left.

There were only a few other cantinas and bars in Sernpidal City, and by the end of the day they had visited pretty much every last one, getting pretty much the same reactions to their questions each time. A few spacers had heard rumors of attacks on shipping, but it was all hearsay.

"I guess we should just call it a night," Jaina finally suggested around sunset.

"See why I said they roll up the sidewalks at night?" Han asked. "There's just nothing to do here."

"Must be a tough change for you," Jaina said.

He shrugged. "If being here helps your mother, then that's just something I'll have to put up with."


	17. Sixteen

.

_**16**_

.

The first thing he came to recognize was a bright white light above him. In and of itself, that meant very little. However, he quickly equated it to the white light of a warp core about to overload.

Was he dead?

He tried to look about himself but everything seemed to be glowing the same way. Tom Paris had never believed in an afterlife, but part of his mind started wondering if he had been pulled into the Q Continuum. Which would only mean that that obnoxious Q would be around somewhere, ready to taunt him for eternity. Or as long as it took for Q to become bored of him, he corrected himself.

"He's awake!" a voice said right next to him.

That was a decidedly odd thing for Q to say, he realized. Except... Q wasn't a woman, and most certainly did not sound like B'Elanna... although he had been known to impersonate members of the crew in the past.

"Hey, get a nurse in here!" the voice that sounded like B'Elanna shouted.

Q... B'Elanna... and _nurses_? his brain protested.

Suddenly, he realized that he was in a hospital, and reached up and slapped his forehead with his palm. A heartbeat later, his head was in agonizing pain and he swore loudly.

"Tom!"

"B'Elanna?" he replied weakly.

He blinked as he felt a warm body press against his, and coughed as his chest suddenly came under pressure. "Hey, take it easy..."

"Sorry," B'Elanna replied. "You ass... I thought we lost you!"

He blinked again, trying to clear his blurred vision. "You're the one who sent me down there!"

"And three dozen of the crew owe their lives to you," she answered.

Tom tilted his head. "How did I survive, anyway? The last thing I remembered was seeing the core start to overload. I didn't even think that was possible."

"The transporter operator on the USS_ Hercules_ got you at the very last moment," B'Elanna replied. "I don't know how he did it. Starfleet Command gave him the Medal of Commendation for his actions."

"Already?" Tom asked in surprise. "How long have I been out?"

"Almost two weeks. You took a heavy dose of hard radiation when the core went critical, so the doctors wanted to make sure they regrew most of the damaged tissue before waking you up."

"Well, that explains the itching," Tom said, rubbing his arm. "What have I missed?"

"Actually, we will be handling that part, Mr. Paris," a strange, gruff voice said from the side opposite B'Elanna. Tom turned his head to see a man in a Starfleet Security uniform standing by the side of the biobed. "My instructions are to bring you in for debriefing as soon as the doctors feel you are capable."

Tom's expression went from calm to panic. "Relax," B'Elanna reassured him. "You didn't do anything wrong this time."

* * *

. . .

* * *

From space, Earth appeared as a tiny, mottled blue orb ringed with white wisps of clouds. It had been seen that way by human space travelers for hundreds of years, ever since an astronaut named William Anders took a photograph of the Earth rising over the lunar horizon in 1968.

To Jean-Luc Picard, watching from his quarters aboard the _Enterprise_, the normally reassuring sight was anything but. Not one ship of Task Force 11 had made it back without damage, and the list of casualties was longer than he cared to admit. _Over three hundred people were aboard the Mateo_.

For an entire week now, his sleep had been sporadic. Picard had never counted himself as a heavy sleeper, but lately he had been lucky to even get a whole hour of rest in without waking up. He paced back and forth several times before turning back to the view of Earth.

_To think that we successfully fought off a Borg assault here barely two years ago, and yet we are nearly helpless in the face of the Dominion today. How long before their war fleets arrive here, at the very heart of the Federation?_

The computer chimed, causing Picard to jump slightly in surprise. "_Incoming call from Starfleet Command,_" it intoned in an all too pleasant voice.

"Put it on," Picard replied, before his eyebrows went up in response to the wiry Japanese face that appeared on the screen.

"Admiral Nakamura." Picard said by way of greeting. "What a surprise."

The Admiral wasted no time in response. "Captain, do you know the reason why I brought you back here?"

"I had assumed it was due to the battle damage we sustained at Benzar and Arcturus."

Nakamura shook his head. "The damage to _Enterprise_ is relatively minor compared to some of the ships that have been coming into Utopia Planitia, such as _Voyager_. No, I brought you here for a different reason."

Picard's brow furrowed. "Wait. Did you say _Voyager_?"

"Still sharp as ever, I see," the Admiral replied. "Yes, _Voyager_. And that is the reason why I... we... why the Federation needs you here, Captain."

Picard's face blanched. "It's not the Borg, is it?"

Obviously noticing the look on his face, Nakamura smiled. "No. Good news, for a change. _Voyager_ found a ship from another galaxy in the Delta Quadrant. They towed _Voyager_ home and we are now in negotiations with them for a possible military alliance."

The captain mulled the sudden declaration over. "While I know that we need all the help we can get," Picard said, "what good will one ship be?"

"They came through a wormhole from their galaxy to the Delta Quadrant. We are hoping to form an alliance with their government in that galaxy."

Picard considered the implications for a moment. "They use a transwarp drive, I presume?"

Nakamura shook his head. "Not exactly. They call it hyperdrive, and based on sensor logs we salvaged from _Voyager_, it appears to be completely different from anything we've seen. It only took two weeks for them to tow _Voyager_ from Borg space to Earth."

The captain maintained his neutral expression. Two weeks was the time it usually took to reach Bajor from Earth at maximum warp. The ability to cross the galaxy in the same amount of time would be a game changer.

"Who else knows?" he asked.

"Starfleet Command, the President, and selected members of the Council," Nakamura replied. "We're trying to keep this as low-key as possible. If the Romulans find out at the wrong time, all the progress we made with them in the last year could be for nothing."

"Of course," Picard replied. "However, you still have not fully explained where I fit into all of this. I doubt that bouncing ideas off me was your intention in bringing me here."

Nakamura was silent for a moment, his face still stoic. "They call their government the Galactic Republic. In order for us to enter into an alliance with them, we must send an envoy to their capital to negotiate with their Senate on behalf of the Federation. We feel that you are the most qualified person in Starfleet for this job."

"Surely there are others," Picard replied, somewhat dumbfounded. "Such as Ambassador Spock."

"He will be on the diplomatic team with you. Captain, the fate of the Federation depends on your success. If we are unable to come to an agreement with the Republic, we will lose this war."

Picard mulled his thoughts over. "If they are a galaxy-wide Republic as you say, I am sure they have troubles of their own. What makes you so sure they will want to help us?"

"We are not," Nakamura admitted. "That is why we are sending you. The survival of the Federation is at stake here, and you are one of the few people that we can trust. I have already made arrangements for you and Ambassador Spock to meet with the Republic commanders. I have also prepared background information for you to review prior to the meeting. Be ready in the transporter room at 1800 hours."

"Certainly, Admiral," Picard replied.

.

Several hours later Picard found himself greeted by an ensign in yet another identical Starfleet transporter room.

"Welcome to Utopia Planitia, Captain."

Picard nodded. "Thank you, Ensign."

"If you would follow me?"

Straightening out his uniform as he walked, Picard followed the ensign out. After several minutes of walking, they entered one of the conference rooms where he found Admiral Nakamura, several other Starfleet admirals, and a mixed group of humans and unidentifiable aliens in strange uniforms waiting. A gleaming silver figure stood motionless at the rear of the room.

Nakamura walked Picard around the table and the group seated there rose to their feet. The first man who rose to greet him was tall, with a flowing gray beard. "Captain Picard, this is Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth of the Republic's Outbound Flight mission."

"My pleasure to meet you," Picard said.

"Likewise," C'baoth replied. "Admiral Nakamura spoke very highly of your skills as a negotiator. Before Outbound Flight departed our galaxy, I was involved in mediating a number of disputes on behalf of the Republic."

Picard inclined his head. The briefing hadn't explained much about the Jedi. "So is Jedi a title for a diplomat of sorts?"

"Diplomacy is one of the many skills that we are called upon to perform as members of the Jedi Order."

He looked C'baoth over again rapidly, noting the rough-styled robe. "Ah. You are a monastic, then?"

"Monasticism is another skill of the Jedi," C'baoth answered, "but to be a Jedi is more than being a simple monk. The Jedi are called to act on behalf of life in the universe. We are linked to life through an energy we call the Force. Through it, we are given insights and abilities not afforded to most beings."

Picard nodded. "In that case, I will be honored to work with you."

The introductions continued as they walked around the table, with Picard counting out three more Jedi and a handful of various specialists. Once he had finished, he took his seat next to Admiral Nakamura and Ambassador Spock.

A moment later Spock leaned forward. "Master C'baoth, you said you believe that the Force links all life in the universe. Does that mean that the Jedi are a ... religion of sorts, or do you possess concrete proof of the existence of this Force? As a Vulcan, we are aware of some extra-sensory aspects that certain races possess, some of which manifest as psychic or other paranormal powers. However, to call these powers proof of a universal life force seems as though it may be a stretch, to say the least."

C'baoth allowed a wan smile to cross his face. "Ambassador Spock, as a man of logic I am sure that you appreciate how difficult it is to quantify the inexplicable in terms of proofs and theorems. However, the incontrovertible fact is that approximately one out of every ten million sapient beings in our galaxy is born Force sensitive. Over time, we have developed a number of scientific tests for this sensitivity, which allow us to identify them within months of birth. However," C'baoth paused for effect, "without Jedi training most sensitives will not even realize the gift they have been granted."

"Fascinating," Spock remarked. "If what you are saying is correct, there are potentially hundreds of Force sensitive beings in the Federation alone."

"Yes," C'baoth replied. "One of the goals of Outbound Flight is to determine if Force sensitivity was solely a trait common to our galaxy, or a more universal constant."  
"And what have you found?" Spock asked.

C'baoth shook his head. "We have not had the chance to conduct any tests yet."

"In that case, I will speak to the Vulcan Science Academy," he replied. "This is a topic that is sure to interest them."

When the discussions around the table had died down, Nakamura glanced at the assembled figures and cleared his throat. "I now call this meeting to order," he said. "Our first topic of discussion is the matter of the ten thousand Republican colonists aboard _Outbound Flight_. Master C'baoth, if you would begin?"

C'baoth cleared his throat. "As has already been stated, our ship has been carrying colonists with the intention of setting up a Republic colony in our destination galaxy. When our ship entered the hyperspace anomaly, it transported us into your galaxy instead. Accepting that as a change in our mission, we therefore request the permission of the Federation to establish a Republic colony world here."

Nakamura nodded. "The Federation Council has already been briefed on your request. Due to your unique position, they have offered the use of one of our former colony worlds under certain conditions. I have a draft of the conditions here, which I will read aloud with your permission." He passed out several PADDs to the assembled diplomats.

"Please proceed," C'baoth responded after glancing over the document.

"The first condition is that the colony, as a neutral and sovereign state, must sign a treaty of non-aggression with the Federation."

"I find no issue with that request," C'baoth replied.

"The second condition is that due to close proximity to Federation worlds and assets, all military operations must be conducted under the direct supervision of Starfleet. Planetary peacekeeping forces are considered exempt from this clause."

A flicker of emotion passed across C'baoth's face, but it did not show in his tone of voice. "Continue."

"The third and final condition is that Federation peacekeeping forces will be allowed unrestricted access to the colony at all times. Furthermore, the Federation reserves the right to extradite suspects involved in criminal investigations."

C'baoth took his time to respond, squaring his shoulders and leaning forward to look Nakamura straight in the eyes. "I see. Does the Federation usually treat its guests with such suspicion?"

"My apologies, Master C'baoth, but this is a rather unprecedented situation. I'm sure the Council only wanted to be proactive."

"Proactive or not, those are very strong demands," C'baoth retorted. "I'm afraid I cannot agree to the conditions presented in this document. How much authority do you have to alter the terms?"

"I can make temporary changes but the final agreement must be approved by the Council," Nakamura replied.

"Very well. Here is what I am prepared to offer: Per the first clause of the original agreement, the colonial government will sign a non-aggression pact with the Federation."

Nakamura nodded, making notes on his PADD as C'baoth continued.

"In light of the current instability in the Alpha Quadrant, however, we insist on maintaining military forces for our own protection. We would be open to participating in a crew exchange program with Starfleet. As an initial part of that program, Starfleet observers would be allowed aboard our ships during training exercises.

"Finally," C'baoth took a sip of water, "as a sovereign state the colony will conduct its own judicial affairs without interference. Access to Federation peacekeeping personnel will be granted on an individual basis. Furthermore, any requests for extradition must be reviewed and approved by the colonial administration."

As the Federation delegates considered the terms, Captain Picard cleared his throat. "Master C'baoth, you mentioned maintaining military forces for the protection of the colony. Could you please explain exactly what that would entail?"

"Gladly," C'baoth replied. "As you know, _Outbound Flight_ consists of six _Dreadnaught_-class cruisers. We plan on restoring four to their full capabilities and using them as the core of our colony's naval forces."

"What about the rest?" Picard asked.

"Dreadnaught D-3 will be decommissioned and used for spares. Dreadnaught D-6 will be used for our return mission to the Republic."

"Do you have any plans to build new vessels?" Nakamura interjected.

C'baoth shook his head. "We don't have the capabilities. While _Outbound Flight_ was designed to set up multiple self-sustaining colonies, it would take at least fifteen years for us to build a new shipyard."

Picard and Nakamura exchanged glances. "In that case," Picard replied, "I believe that will work to your favor in the Council's decision."

"Agreed," Nakamura added. "I will present your feedback to the Council tomorrow and we will meet immediately afterward. With any luck, we should have this matter concluded by next week."

"That would be appreciated," C'baoth said.


	18. Seventeen

Author's Note: For those of you just coming in to see what the heck happened, there have been some edits and re-structuring beginning with Chapter 15. Hopefully this will make the story flow and work better.

* * *

.

_**17**_

.

Captain Yates stifled a yawn as _Diversion_'s reversion alarms sounded for what was perhaps the two hundredth time in the last several weeks. In an effort to find out _Voyager's_ origin, they had tracked down and disabled a Hirogen hunting ship to get access to its navigational data. Finding the ship had been easy enough. Boarding it to get its navigational database had been another story.

He had read over the mission logs from the stormtrooper teams several times and still couldn't quite believe that the ship had only been crewed by two hunters. Of the two squads sent in, six troopers were KIA and another nine injured. They completed the objective in the end, but the hunters had killed themselves rather than be captured.

He sat up and rubbed his temples to try and eliminate the budding headache that was threatening to make a long duty period even longer. He had quickly come to the conclusion that there was just a lot of _weird_ stuff in this galaxy. Apparently, one of the largest forces in this part of the galaxy was a collective of cybernetic-enhanced aliens, which most other races in the area had warned them to keep away from. Not seeing any reason to put his crew in any more risk than necessary, Yates had heeded their advice and they had managed to jump through the so-called 'Borg' space with only about three stops to change course.

During their last course change, they had emerged in a system filled with massive cubes that measured roughly three kilometers on each side. They had been operating as stealthily as normally possible; external running lights shut off, photosensitive transparisteel viewports darkened, and no external transmissions or active sensor pulses of any sort. Yet somehow, within minutes of their arrival, one of the cubes had entered into the strange subspace warp method the natives of this galaxy were so fond of using.

The message it had broadcast on its return to realspace had been very short and ominous in tone, even before they had realized that the Borg had been broadcasting _in Basic_. The implications of that had been terrifying, in the sense that it meant the Borg perhaps had encountered colonists from _Outbound Flight_. The stories the natives had told about the Borg had not been very reassuring.

Still, it had been a measure of the professionalism of his crew that they had kept their wits about themselves, managing to complete the calculations for the next jump within thirty seconds of the cube's arrival. The damage that _Diversion_ had suffered from the Borg weapons was relatively insignificant; the shields had bled off most of the energy fired at them, although one of the generators had come close to overheating during the brief barrage.

Things had been surprisingly quiet for the next several jumps after that harrowing experience. That is, until they had been pulled out of hyperspace in a strangely dense nebula. _Diversion_ had then been attacked by dozens of tiny, almost fighter-like ships.

Fortunately, Loronar had built the Strike Cruiser with starfighter defense in mind. The ship was studded with so many point defense blaster turrets that their attackers never even stood a chance.

Yates leaned back in his seat and considered the goal. So far, everything he had learned pointed to some system called "Ocampa" as _Voyager_'s starting point in this region. Since none of the alien races they had encountered so far had actually been able to say where Earth with any degree of accuracy, it stood to reason that the Ocampa system was the most likely place to find out.

The only problem was that he still didn't know where Ocampa was, exactly. They had instead been leapfrogging from one system to the next, looking for traces of _Voyager_'s journey.

"Sitrep?" he asked, turning to Comm-Scan.

"Average system," the answer came back promptly. "Six rocky planets, two of which lie in the habitable range for humanoids. We're picking up large amounts of subspace emissions coming from both."

"Any sign that we've been detected yet?" _Diversion_ had deliberately jumped into the halo of comets that surrounded most star systems in an attempt to avoid notice.

"Not yet, Sir."

He turned to Rowin. "Keep most systems on standby until we learn who the inhabitants are."

"Yes, Captain," the commander replied, turning back to his own duties.

"Comm-Scan, does the language match anything we've learned so far?"

"There are some that appear similar to Hirogen words, but otherwise no matches."

Yates nodded. "Keep on it and let me know when you have something."

.

It took several hours for the computer to aggregate enough data to provide a meaningful translation, although Yates mentally noted that the accuracy was still somewhat lacking.

Less surprising was the fact that most of the transmissions were commercial in nature. There were advertisements for various products of fairly universal nature such as foods, tools, and other consumer-related goods. Other transmissions seemed to be more focused on entertainment, mostly competitions of various types. While not necessarily important from a military sense, the transmissions allowed Yates to mentally paint a picture of their society.

While the audio was simple enough, it took some additional time for the computer to process their video formats, which turned out to be simple two-dimensional imaging rather than the holographics that Yates had grown accustomed to.

Even the simplicity of their video codec was nowhere near as astonishing as their actual appearance. The Hirogen had been surprisingly close to the typical galactic humanoid, enough for Yates to wonder if it was merely coincidence. These, however, looked almost human if one ignored the copper-colored skin, minor cranial ridges, flattened nose, and lichen-like tufts of hair. There were just too many similarities for not one, but two species to have been a product of evolutionary convergence. _How many times has that wormhole been used?_ he wondered.

.

Fhong walked up several minutes later carrying a datapad. "Here is the report you requested on the system assets, Sir."

Yates nodded. "Thank you, Lieutenant. What are your thoughts on the report?"

"Sir, they appear to have less than fifty ships in system. Most of them have been going back and forth between the fourth and fifth planets, suggesting they are ferries. Only one ship appears to be a potential threat."

"Do they appear to possess any sort of FTL similar to the Hirogen or Borg?"

"We have not detected anything that would suggest that, but I would not discount the possibility yet."

"Commander?" Yates asked, turning around.

"Yes, Captain?" Rowin replied, walking up to where Yates was standing.

"What is your recommendation on how we approach this civilization?"

Rowin considered the question. "Given our previous experiences and the fact that we do not know how they will react to our sudden presence in the system, I would suggest that we downplay our appearance and enter the system at high sublight. It will take longer this way, but we will be able to track their movements more carefully and get a feel for their commanders."

"Very well," Yates replied. "I'm leaving the ship in your hands for a few hours. I'll be in my quarters."

* * *

. . .

* * *

Maje Zerin, commander of the Kazon-Nistrim warship _Pursuer_, was not having what could be called a particularly good day by anyone's standards.

It had started off with the death of his daughter's favorite pet, a wretched reptilian that he had always despised but she was strangely attached to. She and her mother had wasted the better part of several hours on the comm with him trying to convince him to come down to the planet below for a small funeral service they were holding for the animal. He had outright refused for two reasons; the first was that he regardless of what his idiot daughter might have thought about the creature, it was still just that, a creature. The second reason was that _Pursuer_ was assigned to the task of patrolling the system by the First Maje. For him to leave his post for something as frivolous as a pet's funeral would undoubtedly bring very harsh consequences for him.

Then, right after he had finished settling back into his normal routine, one of the reactor techs had forgotten to properly re-seal a containment vessel for radioactive waste from one of their secondary powerplants. _Pursuer_'s medics were still trying to figure out how many of the crew had been exposed to the radiation. While they had gone about that task, Zerin had personally reprimanded the crewman before throwing him out one of the ship's airlocks, sans helmet. He found the colors that the unlucky crewman's face turned before he finally died somewhat amusing, and a nice relief from the earlier tension.

"Maje?"

He snapped out of his reverie to face a crewman holding a sensor report. "What is it now?"

The crewman bowed deferentially. "Maje, the sensor outpost on Krale detected an object entering from outside the system at a significant fraction of lightspeed. Their current vector will bring them into the inner system in several hours' time."

"Who are they?" Zerin demanded.

"The outpost commander was not sure," the crewman replied, taking a step backwards just in case Zerin lashed out at him. "The ship does not appear to be warp capable. They think it is unarmed."

"Primitives, then," Maje Zerin spat. Of course, he was aware that less than a hundred years prior the Kazon were themselves enslaved by the Trabe-held down at a mere Iron Age technological level. That minor detail didn't change the contempt he felt toward the intruders. "A colony ship maybe? Either way, they may hold something of interest to us. Plot a course to intercept them, and see if you can contact them."

"At once, Maje."

.

After several minutes, Maje Zerin was beginning to wonder if the aliens had even received his transmission.

"Incoming signal, Maje," one of the operators finally reported.

"Let's see who these cowards are," Zerin snorted. A moment later, when the figure appeared on the screen, his jaw dropped.

_"Federation?_" he exclaimed in disbelief.

"Maje Zerin, I am Captain Thanan Yates of the Galactic Republic survey vessel FSC-956. We were unaware of your claim to this system. In light of that we formally request permission to continue on our mission." Instead of the message terminating, Yates stood motionless, apparently awaiting a reply.

Zerin took a moment to find his voice. If these aliens were really _Federation_, then this could be a dangerous situation. The last Federation ship the Kazon-Nistrim had encountered had been _Voyager_, and although they overpowered it in the end, the damnable starship still managed to destroy one of _Pursuer_'s sister ships and damage several others. And while Zerin had access to a number of fighters and other smaller supporting vessels in the system, the nearest reinforcements were spread across several systems that were light-years away - almost a day's journey at flank speed.

And _what_ did this Captain Yates mean by "Galactic Republic", exactly? Was there another Human government besides the Federation?

The other thing that bothered him was the ship itself. It had more of a war-like quality to it than _Voyager_ did, although he couldn't see any obvious weapons emplacements. Still...

"Technician Viadi, is that vessel armed?"

The sensor operator checked his displays. "I count about fifty emplacements on the near side of their ship. They appear to be point defense turrets of some sort, perhaps similar to our own."

"What about torpedo tubes, like _Voyager_?"

Viadi looked over the readouts for a few moments before answering. "I cannot find anything that matches _Voyager_'s torpedo launchers. There are some impressions on the hull that could equally be hatches or docking ports. They're much larger than torpedo tubes."

Zerin frowned, but his expression returned to normal a moment later. "Well, we have little choice but to take them at their word. Keep the weapons and shields charged." Then he turned back to Viadi. "Can we open up two-way communication?"

"Yes, Maje. Allow me a moment to set up the connection." Viadi fiddled at the controls some more, and the camera warning light above the main screen turned red. "Link is active."

Maje Zerin cleared his throat and turned toward the screen. "Captain Yates, this system has been Kazon territory for over a hundred years, yet we have never heard of the existence of any Galactic Republic. Did you perhaps mean the Federation?"

Yates shook his head. "No, although it's interesting you mention that. We have been searching for a ship that was lost in this region of space close to sixty years ago. It's possible they could have set up a government of their own by now."

Zerin wanted to spit at the news but resisted the urge-barely. "So, then you admit that you are associated with those humans?"

"Loosely," Yates replied hesitantly. "As I said, they disappeared over sixty years ago. Our mission is to discover what happened to them. Since it seems that you may have encountered the descendants of that ship, can you tell us anything that will help us continue on our way?"

"The ship we came across about two years ago was called _Voyager_," Maje Zerin began slowly. "They said they were trying to return home, and wanted to cross our space. When we refused, they fired on us without warning and damaged several of our vessels. We returned fire, but they broke through our lines and fled into Borg space. We have not heard from them since."

"I see," Yates replied. "This home of theirs... was it called Earth?"

Zerin paused to regard the captain for a long moment. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Do you know where it is?"

"No," Zerin replied. "They never told us."

"What about the Ocampa? I have heard that mentioned, but nobody so far has been able to tell us where it is."

"Now, Captain Yates," Zerin leaned his head to the side, "surely you understand that information is valuable."

Yates sucked his lower lip in and nodded slightly. "Name your price."

"Fifty kilos of anti-deuterium."

For the briefest of moments, one could have heard a pin drop over the connection. Then Yates' face screwed up into an incredulous expression and he snorted quietly, but it wasn't until he spoke that the Kazon understood the meaning of his facial expressions. "Are you planning on blowing yourself up, Maje?"

"No," Zerin answered in the best monotone he could manage under the circumstances. "Antimatter is a valuable commodity."

"A valuable commodity that is notoriously unstable and impossible to work with under the best of circumstances," Yates corrected. "But to answer your question, we're not in the habit of carrying it on board."

Now Zerin snorted, obviously amused. "So. That is why you entered this system below lightspeed. You do not even possess warp drive! You will be old and withered by the time you reach Ocampa, if you even survive." He started turning to tell Viadi to cut the transmission off, but Yates spoke again.

"We don't have to have your warp drive to be able to tell that there are only about fifty ships in the system, and that you have the only warship here. Be careful who you call primitive."

Zerin stopped dead in his tracks, halfway through his turn. "How did you know that?"

"Well..." Yates raised an eyebrow. "As I said, this is a Galactic Republic survey ship. Anything more than that... well, that would be valuable information, wouldn't it? Draw your own conclusions."

"Now you begin to see how things work." The Maje smiled wanly. "Very well. I would like to invite you aboard my vessel to discuss the information you are looking for."

Captain Yates shook his head. "That is a generous offer, but I must refuse. I propose a counter offer: we will both meet on the surface of the fourth planet of this system, in an open field, with our respective ships on the opposite side of said planet."

In the same situation, Zerin reflected, he probably would have proposed exactly the same thing. "Agreed. I will meet you there in one hour."

* * *

. . .

* * *

"Humph," Commander Rowin snorted. "Galactic Republic survey ship, my ass. Although, Captain... I do have to give you credit; nobody's started shooting yet. We didn't have that luck with the last three races we ran into."

Yates grinned as he collapsed into a chair on the side of the bridge. "Well, I would hope that you of all people would realize that not all Imperial captains are the bloodthirsty fools that the old Rebel propaganda vids would make us out to be."

"Although I believe we did encounter more than our healthy share of bloodthirsty fools in the command ranks, as you so eloquently put it."

"Indeed," Yates said with a sigh. He reached over and grabbed a bottle of water out of a locker built into the chair's armrest.

"You did get some good intel out of him, no matter how indignant he may have been about the whole thing," Rowin pointed out as Yates took a long drink out of the bottle. "For instance, I'd guess from their questions that they're dumb enough to try using antimatter to power that ridiculous system of theirs... it's a wonder it doesn't blow up in their faces."

Yates nodded sagely. "There's another reason I wouldn't feel very comfortable aboard one of their ships. By the way, did you catch his reaction to our pointing out his system assets? I don't think they have any sort of FTL sensor system, unlike the Borg. In fact, I'd be willing to bet that's what he wants to negotiate with us on."

"For that matter," Rowin cocked his head as he paused mid-sentence to collect his thoughts, "what about this _Voyager_ ship? He remarked that it wasn't well liked, and we know that the Hirogen hijacked it. It sounds more like a civilian ship than anything else."

"Perhaps," Rowin agreed. "Did you notice how quickly he insinuated that _Voyager_ attacked first? That suggests to me that he is not quite as blameless as he tries to seem."

"So what about _Voyager_ and the Outbound Flight? He's obviously seen humans before, so I think we're on the right track. The only question is, assuming _Voyager_ was built by survivors from Outbound Flight, why would they settle for something like an antimatter-powered warp drive?"

"Why does it have to be built by them?" Rowin asked. "They could have just as easily stolen, bought, or traded for the ship from any one of these local civilizations. Then they can go off and explore the galaxy while leaving their Dreadnaughts to guard the colony.

"That still doesn't explain the connection to the Ocampa system. Do you think that might be one of the Outbound Flight colonies?"

"Possible," Rowin replied. "You should ask Maje Zerin what he knows about Ocampa."

"I can... I'm not sure what he will want to charge us for it, though, if his rate for information about _Voyager_ was fifty kilos of antimatter. I suppose I can always talk him down, but I really hate haggling."

"Also," Rowin pointed out, "we don't have antimatter and I don't think we want to sell our sensor technology to this particular group. What exactly can we trade with them? I have the feeling they're not going to be very interested the crates of shiny glass beads some genius thought we should take with us."

A light dawned on Yates' face. "I know what we can use. Commander, have one of the 'special' crates that the Commodore gave us loaded onto my shuttle. I hope it's as addictive to the Kazon as it is to everyone else."

* * *

. . .

* * *

The wind-swept plains of the fifth planet were a welcome departure from shipboard life, despite it being a frigid 13 degrees outside once the wind chill was accounted for.

Captain Thanan Yates sniffed at the air, noting the unfamiliar smells of the native grasses and other vegetation. Judging by the color of the foliage and the sudden wind changes, he guessed that it was probably nearing the end of the autumn season on the planet, or perhaps the beginning of winter. But at least the atmosphere was breathable, and he hadn't had any signs of an allergic reaction yet. There had been a handful of worlds back in his own galaxy where he simply couldn't stand being outside during certain seasons due to the pollens. Anti-allergy meds helped somewhat, but they usually left his nose and throat dry and irritated, so he preferred not to take them if he could avoid it.

Behind him with its landing pads mashed into the somewhat soft savannah was one of his ship's two Lambda-class shuttles, its tripetal wings folded over it like a mechanical flower. Standing guard to either side of the forward ramp were Sergeant Kriglen, Corporal Landot and several troops from _Diversion_'s stormtrooper detachment. Inside, he knew that there were a dozen more stormtroopers both to guard the shuttle's valuable cargo and in case anything went wrong. Last but not least, two more stormtroopers stood behind him as his personal guard.

Hearing a whine in the distance, he looked up and saw an ungainly-looking brown Kazon craft descending through the sky. It circled the location twice before finally turning and settling down less than a hundred meters away.

A landing ramp unfolded from the rear of the craft and several Kazon troops with odd rifles stepped out first to survey the area. Once satisfied, the apparent guards then took positions at the side of the ramp while the remaining personnel disembarked.

Somewhat apprehensively, Yates turned to the TC protocol droid at his side. The polished silver droid stood stiffly on the uneven ground, although if it was uncomfortable with the situation it made no attempt to show it. Yates was glad that the unit at his side would be silent except for what was required to do its job, unlike the much chattier civilian 3PO and 4PO models from Cybot Galactica.

As the group of Kazon approached, the TC extended an arm in greeting and began speaking rapidly in the guttural alien language. The Kazon at first reacted with confusion, then began babbling to each other and gesturing excitedly at the droid.

"Uh-oh," Yates muttered to himself. "TC, what are they saying?"

"Sir, they are astonished to see an autonomous unit such as myself serving as a translator," the droid replied quietly. "Ah. I believe their leader just expressed his interest in purchasing ... me?"

Had the droid possessed the ability to display facial expressions, it would have likely worn a shocked expression on its face. As it was, the wide-open, dimly glowing photoreceptors and narrow speaker-grill that were common to Cybot's entire protocol droid line gave it a perpetually surprised look, which suited it perfectly in this situation.

"Relax, TC," Yates reassured the droid. "The most I'd be willing to part with would be a binary load-lifter, and even that might be too advanced for them to handle." The droid started to move its arm, and Yates grabbed it. "No, don't tell them that!"

"As you wish, Captain." The droid turned back to the Kazon, who had stopped several arm-lengths away. Their leader began saying something, and TC dutifully translated it.

"Welcome to our planet, Captain Yates of the Galactic Republic. As you are already aware, I am Maje Zerin of the Kazon-Nistrim." The alien waved to the guards surrounding him. "These are my personal bodyguards."

Yates nodded, and gestured toward the droid and stormtroopers behind himself. "This is TC-21, our translator, and these are selected members of the Republic Marines," he said, slightly distorting the truth per his cover story.

The Kazon waved his hand dismissively and began speaking.

"Maje Zerin wishes to know if you are still interested in data on _Voyager_."

"That depends on the price he wants for it," Yates replied, then waited for the droid to translate.

"He says he will provide the information in exchange for your... translator."

Yates tried not to roll his eyes. "Unfortunately, I cannot part with my translator. However," he pulled a clear vial filled with a brown powdery substance from his pocket, "I would be willing to exchange a certain quantity of ryll spice, if you find that acceptable."

"What is ryll spice?"

He should have expected that question, he realized a moment later. "Ryll is a substance that, when consumed, heightens awareness and decreases reaction time. In some cases, it can also enhance telepathic abilities."

"How powerful?"

"The effect depends on the species," Yates replied. "If you would like to try for yourself," he extended his arm, vial in hand, "you can have this."

After a brief moment of hesitation, Zerin stepped forward and took the vial out of Yates' hand, then in turn handed it to one of his bodyguards. After Zerin said something to the bodyguard in Kazon, the bodyguard opened the vial, stuck his finger in and licked the powder off. His eyes went wide, he began blinking rapidly, and then said something to Zerin that TC-21 didn't translate.

Everyone stared expectantly at the bodyguard for several minutes, but nothing more happened. Zerin then asked the bodyguard a question before dabbing some of the spice on his own finger.

"So... what do you think?" Yates finally asked after several more minutes had passed in silence.

"We will talk, in exchange for fifty kilos of this 'ryll'," Zerin declared.

Yates frowned. "We don't have fifty kilos. Ryll is extremely expensive; five kilos is considered a fortune in the Republic."

"Then give me thirty."

He shook his head. "How about this. I have five kilos aboard my shuttle. I will give you that in good faith, and five more after you tell us what you know."

"Give me the five now, and twenty after."

"Five and five... or we leave. I'm sure that I could always find someone else willing to talk for the spice."

"Good luck with that," Zerin retorted. "We are surrounded by the Borg, who I am sure you will not find at all hospitable. Five and fifteen."

Yates looked back at the shuttle, then shrugged. "Well, I suppose we'll be off, then. _Voyager_ must have passed through other systems." He started walking back, but just as TC-21 began following, Zerin shouted something.

"Wait!" TC-21 translated.

Thanan stopped and turned. "Yes?"

"Five and five it is," Zerin agreed.

Yates smiled and tapped his ear. "Besh team, bring out the cargo."

.

As he was waiting for the stormtroopers to bring out the crate of spice, the commlink in his ear beeped and he held a finger up to the earbud. "Yates here."

"Captain, this is Rowin. We have a situation here."

The euphoric feeling that he had from successfully negotiating with Maje Zerin suddenly evaporated and was replaced by a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Go ahead, Commander."

"Sir, six more Kazon warships just entered orbit. They are demanding that we surrender or they will open fire."

Yates suddenly spun around. "Is this some sort of trick?" he demanded.

"What do you mean?" Zerin replied, obviously confused.

"Maje Zerin," Yates snapped, "there are _six additional_ Kazon warships in orbit that are demanding the surrender of my ship. Now, I would like to know something, and you had better choose your answer carefully. Did you call for reinforcements?"

"No!" Zerin exclaimed.

Yates tapped his commlink again. "Commander, have the new arrivals identified themselves?"

"Yes, Sir," came the prompt reply. "They are commanded by First Maje Culluh of the Kazon-Nistrim."

"Maje Zerin, I am going to ask you one more time," Yates said, his eyes burning with anger. "Did you call for reinforcements?"

"No, I did not, Captain Yates." Zerin straighted himself. "How dare you insult me in this way. The Kazon are strong. To call for reinforcements is to show weakness."

"Very well," Yates sighed. "Let me ask you a different question. Who is First Maje Culluh?"

"Why is that relevant?"

"Just answer the question, Maje."

"Fine," Zerin spat. "He is my commander."

Yates nodded. "I thought so. Does it surprise you to know that the ships that just arrived are commanded by Culluh himself?"

"No," Zerin finally answered.

"So, then you admit you, or someone under you, did call for reinforcements."

"As I already told you," Zerin waved emphatically, "why should I call for Culluh? He would perceive me as a weakling if I did such a thing. More likely, he had a spy among my crew or in one of the outpost stations here."

"Well, then," Yates replied, "I guess that's a good thing for you. Because you are going to come with us."

"I will do no such thing," Zerin objected.

Yates made a sweeping gesture. "Take a look around yourself."

What Zerin hadn't realized was that while he had been engaged in the conversation with Yates, stormtroopers from the shuttle had completely encircled both the Maje and his bodyguards. Now, all twenty of them were holding their standard-issue carbines level, aimed directly at the Kazon.

"Now, slowly remove your weapons and place them on the ground."

Zerin and the bodyguards complied, unholstering their disruptor rifles and dropping them to the dirt.

"Troops, bind them and escort them aboard our shuttle. I will need two of you with pilot experience to fly the Kazon shuttle as well."

While the stormtroopers went about their assignments, Yates tapped his commlink again. "Commander, sitrep?"

"They're still threatening to open fire," Rowin replied.

"Tell them that we have Maje Zerin aboard and that any actions they take will threaten him as well."

"Yes, Sir."

"Just to let you know, we have just captured the Maje and his bodyguards. I plan on bringing him and the shuttle he came on back with me. Can you prepare a distraction for us?"

"I will do my best, Sir."

"Thank you, Commander."

.

Moments later, as they were walking back to the shuttle, the commlink in Yates' ear beeped again. "Go ahead."

"Sir, the First Maje wishes to see proof that we have Zerin aboard."

Yates thought for a moment, then pressed the earbud again. "We'll broadcast from the shuttle's holoprojector."

As soon as they walked the bound Kazon up the ramp into the shuttle's main cabin, several of the stormtroopers forced them down on the acceleration couch while another went for the holorecording equipment. It took about another minute to get everything set up, and finally one of the troopers approached Yates. "The link is active, Sir."

"Thank you, Corporal." He stepped over in front of the holocam, directly between it and the Kazon on the acceleration couch. "First Maje Culluh of the Kazon-Nistrim, I am Captain Thanan Yates of the Galactic Republic Survey Corps. We are here in search of a lost ship and do not intend harm toward any of your people. As a matter of fact, we were negotiating an agreement with Maje Zerin when you arrived and threatened us. Because of this, we have taken Maje Zerin and his bodyguards into custody until we can resolve this matter peacefully."

Yates took a step back, giving the holocam full view of Zerin and the two bodyguards, sitting on the acceleration couch with their bound hands in their laps.

"I trust that you are a reasonable being, First Maje, and ask that you consider Maje Zerin's life in your calculations. Yates out."

A minute later, the holoprojector flared to life, displaying a 2D screen floating in the air. Once Yates got a good look at the figure on the screen, he shook his head gently; apparently, the higher you rose in the Kazon ranks, the uglier you got.

"Captain Yates," Culluh began, "do you take me for a fool? It would be hard for me to care less if anything happened to Maje Zerin. There is a reason that he was assigned guard duty in this system. As for you and your so-called Republic Survey Corps, you are an audacious liar. I know you are from the Federation looking for _Voyager_, and I do not intend to allow you to succeed. And if you have any thoughts of escaping, you are outnumbered and outgunned. I _will_ disable your ship if necessary, and I _will_ take what is rightfully mine."

"Oh, you mean Zerin?" Yates retorted, unable to resist the opportunity to jab. "He's yours. All you had to do was ask nicely."

"I am referring to your technology," Culluh said in an icy tone. "I will not let you escape the way _Voyager_ did. You have one minute to surrender or we will open fire."

The holoimage disappeared, and Yates turned around to face Zerin. "Is he always this abrasive?"

Zerin looked at him with a blank expression and shrugged; Yates realized that TC-21 wasn't aboard the shuttle yet. "Get that droid in here!" he ordered one of the nearby troopers, who ducked out of the shuttle and came back seconds later with the startled droid.

"Zerin, what sort of firepower does your ship have?"

After TC-21 translated the question, Zerin looked at Yates and shook his head. "As much as I may dislike First Maje Culluh, I am not going to answer any of your questions."

"Suit yourself," Yates said with a shrug, then held his hand up to his ear. "Commander, how much time do we have left?"

"Twenty seconds, Sir."

"Use your best judgment, Rowin. You're in command right now. We're going to head into orbit in a few minutes; let us know when it's safe to approach."

"Yes, Captain."

As the pilots prepared the transport for takeoff, Yates silently hoped that his ship would be prepared for whatever came next. In all the years he'd been in command of her, she hadn't failed him.

Yet.


	19. Eighteen

._**  
**_

_**18**_

.

"Councilors." Jorus C'baoth's voice boomed throughout the relatively small Federation Council chambers. "I am honored to stand before you today, both as a representative of the Galactic Republic, and as the administrator of the Outbound Flight project."

He glanced around the chamber at the assembled councilors, who could not have numbered more than three or four dozen. That was about the typical size of a Senate sub-committee.

"I believe we have much to offer each other. I have been in negotiations with Admiral Nakamura of Starfleet Command and his diplomatic team for the past two weeks, and we have come to several agreements that I hope you will accept."

There were several nods from the gathered councilors and quiet murmuring. After a few long moments of silence, C'baoth continued.

"As you may already know, Outbound Flight was a groundbreaking exploration and colonization mission. It has already succeeded beyond our wildest expectations. We discovered not only intelligent life in this galaxy, but _human_ life. We may infer that our past history is therefore more closely related than any of us had anticipated.

He took a deep breath. "At the moment, we have several pressing concerns. The first is that there are ten thousand Republic colonists aboard Outbound Flight with nowhere to go. I understand that a vote will be held next week on the revised grant agreement to allow us the use of one of your former colony worlds.

"The second relates to your current predicament. We have already established that Outbound Flight will only be able to provide limited assistance, due to the need to protect our colonists. Your diplomats have told me they intend to seek a mutual defense treaty with the Republic. I do not believe that is a good idea."

The quiet chamber suddenly erupted into argument as a number of councilors stood up and tried to shout questions and accusations. The President slammed his gavel down several times until the chamber became quiet again.

"The councilor from Vulcan has the floor," he said a moment later.

"Master C'baoth," the Vulcan intoned, "you appear to be a rational being and I am sure you meant no insult by your statement. However, I believe my colleagues would appreciate an explanation. Finally, if a mutual defense treaty will not work, then what would you recommend we do instead?"

C'baoth nodded in assent. "A mutual defense treaty is not feasible due to the scale of the Republic. Our galaxy has been unified for over a thousand generations. While there may be petty disputes over territory from time to time, we have no outside threats that would require aid. For that reason alone, I find it unlikely that such a treaty would get the majority vote needed to pass the Senate."

"Then what option do we have?" a blue-skinned Andorian asked. "Also, if your galaxy is so used to the status quo, how was your Outbound Flight mission approved?"

"First," C'baoth replied, "Outbound Flight was my own idea. We have looked inward far too long, unaware of the universe around us. I believed it was time to change that, and I had the support of the Chancellor of the Republic. Despite his support, I do not believe the rest of the galaxy will be so quick to accept change.

"Second, it may be possible to simply purchase the ships and technology you need. However, you may run afoul of ancient export regulations such as the one prohibiting us from simply giving you hyperdrive technology. I am not sure if there is an easy way to resolve that situation, which leads me to my final suggestion."

"And what might that be?" the Andorian interjected.

C'baoth let out a quiet chuckle. "Patience, my blue friend. I would suggest that you apply for admittance to the Republic."

"And give up our freedom?" one of the human councilors objected. "You can't be serious."

"While that is always a risk," C'baoth stated forcefully, "the legislation of the Republic is primarily written to enforce equality and minimum standards of life across the galaxy. There are a plethora of sector governments that are independently governed, much like your Federation."

"But we would still be subservient to the Republic," the man retorted.

"Would you prefer to be subservient to the Dominion?" C'baoth asked. When no response came, he continued. "The Senate grants the sector governments a great deal of autonomy. To do anything else would be foolish as no single governing body could directly manage an entire galaxy."

"I believe you have adequately explained the downsides," the Vulcan said, "but what would we stand to gain from joining your Republic?"

"You would gain several seats in the Senate and a say in galactic politics. As a Republic sector, the Federation would also fall under the protection of the Senate Judicial Corps. You would also have unrestricted trade with the rest of the galaxy."

"What sort of protection would we get?" the Andorian asked.

"The Judicial Corps," C'baoth explained, "includes both the Republic Navy and the Jedi Order. Jedi are sent to mediate and dissolve small conflicts and disputes, to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. If a situation is outside the capabilities of the Jedi, and cannot be dealt with by sector fleet command, then the Republic Navy is deployed."

"So if we joined, the Senate would have to send the Navy to help?" the human councilor asked hopefully.

"No." After several quizzical looks from the councilors, he continued. "The autonomy comes at a price. The recommended course of action for your situation would be to immediately enter discussions with our defense contractors, who would provide you with ships, weapons and financing. Navy veterans would then come to train your Starfleet crews."

"That is a logical course of action," the Vulcan concluded. "However, any such agreement would be a major change for the Federation. Do you have a copy of the laws of the Republic for us to look over?"

C'baoth held up a datapad. "I have already loaded this with a copy of the Republic Charter, as well as the majority of our legal code. I will warn you however that the legal code is long and convoluted. Our return mission is scheduled to depart in two weeks, so you need to make your decision before then."

"If that is what is necessary, then we will do so," the Vulcan replied, holding his hand up in a split-V. "Master C'baoth, thank you for your time. May you live long and prosper."

* * *

. . .

* * *

There were always going to be times, Commander Rowin reflected, when hindsight made a very close approximation of a Gamorrean sow. Right now was one of them. Captain Yates' decision to go in diplomatically had come around to bite them all in the collective hindquarters. They'd had a chance to see how strong a Kazon ship was in combat, when the odds were one to one. Now he was surrounded by the damned things and they had next to no idea how strong their weapons were. Or defenses, for that matter.

He sighed quietly and turned toward the Comm-Scan station. "Open a channel to Maje Culluh's ship."

"Yes, Sir."

Moments later, the First Maje's wrinkled face appeared in the middle of the bridge on the holoscreen. "So," Culluh gloated, "you have realized that you cannot escape."

"Yes," Rowin said with the best poker face he could manage. "You have out-maneuvered us. What are your terms?"

Culluh snorted. "First, you will surrender Maje Zerin to me unharmed. Second, you will disable all security measures on your ship. We will transport your crew to the planet below and then we will sweep your ship. If we find any... surprises... there will be harsh consequences."

Rowin swallowed and nodded. "Of course, Maje."

"Good." Culluh seemed genuinely happy with himself, Rowin noted. "Power your systems down and prepare for our arrival."

As the holo disappeared, one of the senior lieutenants looked at Rowin with a slightly disapproving frown. "Sir... we're not really going to surrender, are we?"

Rowin shook his head. "Of course not. I'm just trying to buy some time. Helm, put the engines into hot standby, make it look like we're powering down and surrendering. Cut the reactor output to fifty percent as well but keep it ready to go to full power. Tac-Ops, shields to standby. Gunnery, what's the status of the main turbolaser batteries?"

"In standby, Sir."

"Good." He turned back to Comm-Scan. "Open the channel back up."

When Culluh's face appeared, Rowin bowed slightly in mock deferment. "We have powered down as you requested, First Maje."

Culluh glanced off-screen for a moment. "Excellent."

The holo vanished again and Rowin allowed a slight smile to cross his face.

"Commander, the Kazon are launching transports," one of the Comm-Scan techs reported barely a minute later.

Rowin nodded. "Evacuate all personnel from the hangar and have E-Web crews set up choke points at the entrances. Gunnery, prepare firing solutions for the Kazon flagship. Tac-Ops, prepare to raise the shields."

"Yes, Captain."

"ETA thirty seconds on the transports," the Comm-Scan tech read out.

Rowin calmly watched the icons representing the transports steadily draw nearer. "Execute on my mark," he instructed them as he waited for the most opportune moment to present itself.

* * *

. . .

* * *

From his seat in the lead assault craft's cockpit, First Maje Culluh silently watched the alien ship grow larger in the distance.

He was already convinced that they had been lying to him about the so-called Galactic Republic. It had to be a cover story for the Federation. From what he'd read in _Voyager_'s computer databanks, the humans of the Federation had only been in space for perhaps three times as long as the Kazon. They hadn't even had warp travel for the first hundred or so years of that! That made the idea of a galactic government even more ludicrous. No, they had to be lying; he was completely certain of that.

Then again, their ship didn't have warp drive, which made it possible that it was from those first hundred years of pre-warp travel. But if that was the case, and they had somehow managed to cross the galaxy in two hundred years without warp drive, how was it that they knew of _Voyager_?

He leaned back in his seat, contemplating the questions on his mind, before glancing up to see the hangar bay looming in front of them like a gaping mouth. By the standards of his own ship, it was not terribly large, but it was certainly larger than the cramped joke that _Voyager_ called its shuttlebay. His pilot expertly aligned the shuttle with one side of the hangar and guided it in, landing it so that its ramp was pointing toward a wall for cover. Then Culluh stood up and, after they had checked the air outside the shuttle, the pilot unsealed the hatch and he stepped onto the hangar deck flanked by two of his best troops.

There was definitely a metallic tang in the air that had been absent on _Voyager_; it was the smell of machinery being worked on. But Culluh could not see any crew in the hangar. They spread out and marched forward, keeping an eye out for possible traps. All they saw, however, were abandoned equipment carts parked next to several oddly shaped craft. One of them, hanging close to the ground on an overhead gantry, looked like a ball suspended between two flat panels. Culluh wasn't sure what it was supposed to be, but if the ball was a cockpit, then it could only hold one person. What was the use of that?

The next craft they passed was much larger, similar to the assault shuttle he had flown in on. This one had wings of some sort that extended upward like the petals of a strange metallic flower. Culluh paid it little attention, instead looking around for any signs of danger.

Finally, at one end of the hangar they came to the exit, a wide black door of some sort that silently split in half and slid aside as they approached. Culluh motioned for two of his guards to stay behind in the hangar near the doors, and then the rest of them continued forward.

One of the other things he noted as they kept walking down the wide hallway (it was, he guessed, enough for eight or ten to walk side by side) was that the floors in this ship were all polished metal, whereas the floors on _Voyager_ had been covered in some kind of fuzzy textile. It definitely lent the ship a much more essential, military feel compared to _Voyager_.

"Halt!" a harsh, metallic voice shouted in perfect Kazon as they rounded another corner of the hallway, coming to face a barricade that was positioned about ten meters down the hallway. All Culluh could see was the large muzzle of a weapon poking ominously over the heavy barricade. "You are trespassing on Imperial property. Surrender your weapons immediately."

Culluh ducked back around the corner out of range of the weapon and grabbed his earpiece, but all he was greeted by was static. _Jamming?_ he wondered as he tried to contact his flagship. Nobody answered.

"Who is the fastest runner?" he asked, turning around to face the group.

"I am, First Maje," one of them replied.

"Go back to the shuttle and bring reinforcements. Try to contact the flagship."

The runner obediently turned and dashed toward the hallway. Culluh then turned to face the rest, pointing at the two nearest troops.

"You two will charge the position while we provide covering fire. Take your positions and wait for my command." Half of the squad knelt or stood next to the corner with their rifles drawn while the other two stood back in a runner's stance, waiting to go. "Charge!" he exclaimed. As the two began sprinting, he and the rest of his troops aimed their weapons down the corridor and began firing on auto at the barricade.

For a moment, Culluh thought the fire would keep the humans from responding. Then the cannon at the barricade roared to life, rapidly spitting out a hail of powerful red bolts that literally cut the two unfortunate troops in half as it walked its sights down the corridor. Culluh ducked back in time to avoid being hit, but he could feel the searing heat of the bolts as they passed. Several of his other troops were not as lucky; a rifle exploded in one guard's hand, and another trooper's head turned into a smoking crater in spite of the helmet he wore. The infernal weapon continued firing for several more seconds, tearing chunks out of the wall before it finally stopped.

"I repeat, surrender your weapons and you will not be harmed," the same mechanical voice intoned.

Maje Culluh looked at the troops around him. They all shook their heads, and he turned as the messenger he had sent came running back up behind him. "Why have you returned without reinforcements?" he asked.

"My apologies, First Maje," the Kazon said, panting, "but we are sealed in by a bulkhead of unusual strength. Our disruptors do not even scratch its surface."

"Then beyond that barricade lies our only way out," Culluh said. "Lieutenant, set up a smoke screen to cover our advance."

The lieutenant unclipped a canister from his belt, pulled out a pin, and then hurled it down the hallway. There was a burst of fire from the gun, but he narrowly avoided being hit. Then they heard the distinct pop and hiss of the canister exploding. "Go," Culluh ordered.

Three troops charged out this time, as Culluh and the rest shot blindly in the general direction of the barricade. Then the high-pitched staccato of the gun began again, and Culluh's stomach sank as one of the unfortunate troops screamed in agony.

"This is your last chance, Kazon. Throw your weapons down and come out with your hands up."

Culluh looked at the surviving troops and frowned. "Conceal your sidearms. We may be able to approach close enough to overpower them if they think we are surrendering."

They all quickly stuffed their pistols into various parts of their clothing, then threw their rifles around the corner and walked out slowly, hands outstretched.

"Move forward, slowly," the voice ordered. "Keep your hands up."

The ten meters to the barricade took an agonizing amount of time to cover, but finally, several white-clad, almost skeletal looking figures stepped out from behind the barricade. Each one was holding a very practical carbine-sized gun.

"Halt."

Culluh looked around at the other troops. The gun was very close now, and perhaps they could duck out of its firing arc... He could see that the others were evidently thinking the same thing.

"Turn around. Keep your hands in the air."

The Maje did as the voice said, and waited. Then he felt something grab one of his arms and he suddenly spun, pulling his would-be captor's arm down as he wrenched his hand free. There was a flurry of movement around him as the other troops reacted likewise. He ducked and ran toward the barricade, pulling out his concealed pistol as he did-

-and the last thing he would remember seeing was another dozen or so of the white-armored troops standing behind it, guns drawn and ready. Blue light flashed toward him, he felt the tingling sensation of electricity, and then the lights went out.


	20. Nineteen

_**19**_

_**.  
**_

"Captain Picard," Jorus C'baoth acknowledged the man who had just entered the room with a slight nod.

"Master C'baoth," Picard replied in a similar tone. "Are you looking forward to returning to your own galaxy?"

C'baoth turned to the simulated view of space that filled one wall of the conference room. It was almost enough to give one a sense of vertigo, if one were sensitive to that sort of thing. "I will not be returning yet," he said softly. "Master Dellen will go in my stead. Once our colony is fully self-sufficient, then I may consider returning. Which reminds me, has a suitable planet been located yet?"

As he sat down at the table, Picard pulled out a PADD. "We have identified five uninhabited planets that met your criteria. The Council was hoping that you would be able to make your selection before tomorrow's session."

C'baoth took the PADD and began paging through it. "This one-Quadra Sigma III-it says here that there was a Federation colony on it ten years ago. What happened?"

Picard paused in recollection. "It was a mining colony," he replied. "There was an explosion in the mine which severely injured a number of colonists some ten years ago. The _Enterprise_ was sent to pick up the survivors."

"Is the world geologically unstable?" C'baoth asked. "Of these planets, it is the closest to a standard atmosphere."

"I do not believe so," the Captain replied. "The Federation simply determined that the risk of continuing mining operations was not worth the reward and shut it down."

C'baoth slid the PADD back across the table and folded his hands. "Well," he said with a hint of a smile, "I suppose I cannot fault your government for offering us unwanted planets. Our request must have seemed like a convenient way of disposing of them without losing territory to one of your neighbors."

Picard shifted in his chair. "Bureaucrats think alike," he ventured.

"Indeed they do." The Jedi Master straightened himself. "Well, it seems that a trip to Quadra Sigma III is in order. I hope Master Fernas has finished making the adjustments for our systems to use your starmaps."

Picard nodded. "In that case, I will let the Council know your decision."

"What you will let the Council know," C'baoth shook his head, "is that before we decide on a planet, I will visit it myself. This one appears to be the most appealing of the choices they have presented, so it will simply be the first one we evaluate."

"It would-" Picard was interrupted by a loud thump outside the room. Several of the assistant diplomats entered and began to set up their own seats at the table. "It would appear I misunderstood," he continued. "You have my apologies."

There was some shuffling noises and muttered curses as one of the diplomats struggled to sort through a stack of PADDs he had brought in.

"Yes, Mr... Anderson?" Master C'baoth addressed the man. "How may I help you?"

Anderson triumphantly grabbed at one of the PADDs. "Master C'baoth, during salvage operations we recovered information from _Voyager's_ computer core that suggested the system crash was no random fluke. In fact, it appears that some members of your crew may have deliberately acted to breach _Voyager_'s computer systems, leading to the cascading system failure that was responsible for the complete loss of _Voyager_."

C'baoth folded his hands and cleared his throat. "Mr. Anderson, over the past several days you have managed to jump to quite a few incorrect conclusions. Do you have any proof to substantiate these latest claims, or are you simply trying to undermine the last month's worth of work purely out of spite?"

Anderson made a gesture with his arm. "Lieutenant, please enter."

A short, dark-haired man with Asian features stepped into the conference room, fidgeting visibly when he saw Picard.

"Your name, rank and position?" Anderson asked.

"Lieutenant Matt Huang, data forensics, Daystrom Institute."

He handed the Lieutenant one of the PADDs. "Have you seen this before?"

Huang glanced over the PADD for a few moments before nodding. "Yes, this is a summary of the report I prepared during _Voyager_'s salvage."

Anderson's grin widened. "So, Lieutenant, would you like to tell us in your own words what you found?"

"Well," Huang glanced around the room, "Utopia Planitia's salvage foreman called my team in to analyze the events leading up to the failure of _Voyager_'s warp core. Since the computer core was still intact, we began examining the data and process logs. One hour prior to arrival, a number of background subroutines began displaying anomalous behavior. There was a whole string of privilege violations and segmentation faults, which caused all sorts of routines such as waste flow management and fuel level monitoring to shut down. When the computer attempted to restart the subroutines, it threw exceptions because they had been deleted. By the time Lieutenant Torres attempted to reset the computer, over half of the subroutines were missing. The warp core intermix system came back online but was unable to monitor the injector ratio. The injectors continued dumping fuel into the warp core, which was then detected as a core overload by the failsafe processes."

Anderson nodded. "So what then, in your opinion, was the cause?"

"Well... ah... it could have been anything, really. We've seen faults like this arise because of foreign programming; there are a number of documented cases of Starfleet ships coming under attack from data entities. However, I doubt that was the case here. _Voyager_ had been operating continuously for over five years and was three years past its scheduled maintenance review. The bio-neural gelpacks were designed to be replaced at two-year intervals, and when we examined the remaining packs we found severe neural degradation. We suspect that was the cause of the data corruption."

The diplomat's mouth moved several times but no sounds came out. "But you said that foreign programming could be the cause. At the time of the failure, _Voyager_ shared a datalink with the Republican ship. Isn't it possible for a data virus to be transmitted over such a link?"

"Possible, yes," Huang admitted. "Is it probable? No. The data link was strictly related to communications and telemetry. The likelihood of a data virus being transmitted over the link is slim, particularly when documents provided by _Outbound Flight_ engineers indicate their systems operate on a different mathematical basis. As I said, we observed severe neural degradation in the gelpacks. That alone would be sufficient to cause the problems observed."

With a sigh, Captain Picard came to his feet. "Lieutenant, thank you for the explanation. You are dismissed." Then he turned to the diplomat. "Mr. Anderson, you have been an embarrassment to Starfleet. Wild generalizations, baseless accusations, and the like are not the way to promote healthy relations between two governments. While I do not have the authority to remove you myself, I am requesting that you resign your position and return to the Peace Corps."

Anderson shook his head. "I know they did this! Just give me another week to review the data with Lieutenant Huang and we'll get the proof."

"You did not understand me," Picard said firmly. "If you do not resign, _today_, I will make sure that you are removed by any means necessary. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

"Y-Yes," Anderson stammered. "Sir."

* * *

. . .

* * *

First Maje Culluh was arguably the most successful Maje in the Nistrim sect of Kazon civilization. He had personally led the capture of over three dozen starships (not including _Voyager_) thereby enhancing the fighting strength of the Nistrim. His goal had long been to make the Nistrim more powerful than any other Kazon sect and bring the others under his control.

However, all of his past experiences and ambitions had not prepared him for awakening in a small cell with smooth metal walls and a thick grated floor. Oh, he had taken hundreds of prisoners during the years he had been First Maje. But he had never actually experienced _being_ a prisoner before.

He quickly decided that he didn't like it.

First, the bench in his cell was hard and cold. There was a small piece of foam at one end that he could just barely rest his head on, but that was the only concession made in the entire cell. Opposite the bench was a smaller, boxy bench with a hole in the middle that he could only assume was some sort of human waste device. He hadn't even tried to figure out how it worked yet, but if human physiology was as close to Kazon physiology as his doctors suspected, then it probably worked in a similar manner.

And that was it. The light above was harsh and the light panels themselves were protected by another heavy piece of grate. The metal door of the cell had no obvious handles or other features, so he decided that it must be mounted on tracks. Other than that, the cell was entirely featureless.

On top of it all, he really had no idea how much time had passed. Well, he wasn't dehydrated yet so it couldn't have been more than a day.

The stillness was finally interrupted by two of the white-clad troopers who came in, roughly grabbed him and slapped binders on his wrists, then escorted him out of the cell. The next few minutes were spent walking along seemingly endless corridors that all looked alike: polished metal deck plates, unremarkable gray walls, evenly spaced lighting panels. By the time they reached a doorway that looked like all the others except for the strange lettering on it, Culluh was quite throughly confused about where they had taken him. After the eighth turn, he'd lost count of where they went left and right. Not to mention when they had hopped on a turbolift and come out somewhere else on the ship.

Once inside, the troopers walked him toward another door, which had a darkened window next to it. Then the door slid open and they pushed him into the room. He blinked in the darkness, trying to clear his vision, and then the lights came on full to reveal a simple black table and three chairs, two on one side and one on the side closest to him. Seated in one of the chairs was a human clad in a bland gray uniform that matched the rest of the gray on the ship. Standing next to him, in stark contrast, was a silver-colored, metallic humanoid form.

_Are they going to try putting me in that suit?_ he wondered.

Then the human began speaking in a strange language, and the humanoid form moved its head slightly as its "eyes" lit up.

"I don't believe we have met," the thing translated. "Let us abandon any pretexts. I am Captain Thanan Yates, and this ship that you so foolishly attacked is the Imperial Strike Cruiser _Diversion_."

Culluh frowned, but said nothing. Apparently the thing was a translator, not a torture device. But if these were humans like _Voyager_, didn't they have some sort of miniaturized implant? Why would they even need a translator?

"Well. That got a reaction. Now, Mister Culluh, I'm told that you are the First Maje of the Kazon-Nistrim. Is that correct?"

Culluh glared first at the translation unit, then at Captain Yates. "Why should I tell you anything?"

Yates shrugged. "Well, it doesn't really matter. We already know who you are, what planet your family lives on, and that your little fleet of ships was decimated."

"Then why do you bother asking?"

"Because it's incredibly rare for someone to lead his troops into combat from the front, and I wanted to meet the commander."

_Ah,_ Culluh thought. _So he sees me as an equal._

"I also wanted to tell him that leading from the front is an incredibly stupid and careless thing for any competent commander to do, which, incidentally, is the reason you are in here. Count yourself lucky that my troops didn't simply blast you on sight."

_So much for being equals._

"So, I ask you again, Mister Culluh. Are you not the First Maje of the Kazon-Nistrim?"

"I am," Culluh finally said.

Yates smiled. "There, that wasn't so hard. We're already off to a good start. Now, why did you attack us?"

Culluh paused for a moment to consider the question. "Two reasons. One, you were trespassing on Kazon-Nistrim territory. Two, I had reasons to believe that you might have new information on _Voyager_."

"So you attacked us?"

"Intending to capture your ship, yes," Culluh admitted.

"I see," Yates said, steepling his fingers. "Now, why do you suppose that plan didn't exactly work out for you?"

"You set up an ambush for us," Culluh spat out.

Yates's expression twisted in amusement. "Did you even consider that was a possibility?"

"No," he finally said. "_Voyager_ was a tough opponent, but they do not know war. They sit inside of their ship, protected by their shields, and fire weapons that they have no connection with. But up close, they are soft. They do not know what it really means to fight and kill."

"So we came as a surprise to you?"

Culluh nodded. "I thought all humans were weak and stupid, as they were. I will admit that was wrong. But your troops fight like machines. There is no emotion, nothing to suggest they enjoy what they do. How do you maintain that? Do they not crack eventually?"

"I will ask the questions here," Yates said firmly. "This is not a meeting of peers, rather this is an interrogation, in case you missed the distinction. You are my prisoner, and while I will treat you with the degree of respect that is accorded to prisoners, I will not freely give you information."

Culluh forced himself to nod, although he had to admit that he felt more than a little insulted by the remark.

"Let me ask you something different. How do you think your ships performed in combat?"

The Kazon looked at the ceiling. "I am still here, so I can only assume that you were able to evade them."

"The first wise assumption you have made so far," Yates said with a nod. "Although I am puzzled at your choice of words, notably how you think we evaded your ships. Actually, it was quite the opposite. We destroyed your force with the exception of two ships that surrendered to us."

Culluh's expression turned to one of disbelief. "Who are you?" he asked.

"We are human," Yates said simply. "But I thought you already knew that."

"You said this ship was an _Imperial_ ship," Culluh continued. "I know of no human Empire."

The captain simply stared evenly across the table at Culluh, which made him feel quite uncomfortable. "Yes, although most of us are human, we are from an Empire of many races," he said, "which is obviously unheard-of in these parts."

Culluh leaned back in the uncomfortable chair. He had a feeling that he now knew less than he thought he'd known about these people when he had attacked. "How can I be so sure that you are not lying about destroying my ships?"

"Well," Yates said, "for one, think about the implications of that, and what it means for the other Kazon worlds. From what we've heard about Kazon society, it seems that the other Kazon sects would be chomping at the bit, so to speak, for a chance to absorb your territory now that you've been weakened."

"This force is but a small fraction of what I can bring to bear," Culluh said in a desperate attempt at bluster.

"And how do you think the rest would fare against us?" Yates asked, his expression completely unreadable. "No, don't bother answering that. We both know how it would end. I will, however, make you an offer that will end this matter."

"I'm listening," Culluh said with a frown.

"The same gracious terms that you offered us," Yates said, "I will offer to you. We will leave most of your surviving crews on a barren planet of our own choosing. Then we will send the ships to crash into that same planet so they will not be of use to you or anyone else."

Although he couldn't see it, the blood had drained out of Culluh's face. "Surely there is another option?"

"You did not give us any other choice. Why should we be so gracious?"

Culluh had to admit that the captain had a point. "You mentioned the other sects. Would you leave my people leaderless in the face of that?"

"Why not? I always thought leaders were supposed to do the right thing for their people." The human paused for a moment, then continued. "Although... that Maje we encountered first seemed to have some wits about him. What was his name?"

"Zerin," Culluh spat.

"Ah, yes, that's right. Maje Zerin. I think he'll make a good First Maje. What do you think?"

"You can't be serious."

The human smiled. "Oh, I quite think I am. Trooper, allow our guest to enter." The door hissed open and Zerin stepped into the small room. "We've offered him your position as leader of the Nistrim."

"But how will you guarantee that the other Majes won't just kill him? After all, succession is usually decided from the end of a gun."

"That's true," the human answered, turning to Zerin and offering him a small pistol. "He will, of course, have our assistance in making sure that his leadership is unquestioned. Which is why we'll let him decide your fate."

As Captain Yates walked back to the turbolift, he heard the muffled blaster shot ring out. One less problem he had to deal with in this galaxy, and they now had a potential ally here. Potential being the operative word, since he wasn't completely sure yet of how trustworthy these aliens were. But that could be dealt with later.

Which just left him with the still unanswered question of what happened to _Outbound Flight_. He had to admit that the information they had about _Voyager_ was making less and less sense. It was a ship powered by the same sort of subspace distortion drive that was so common in this galaxy. The humans aboard it were obviously not military, but _Outbound Flight_ had Republic Navy crews and Jedi aboard in addition to the colonists. Both were very disciplined, where _Voyager_ was obviously not.

Then there was the matter of capabilities. His ship hadn't even batted an eye at the firepower that eight fully operational Kazon warships had thrown at him. From Culluh's remarks about _Voyager_, it had been stronger than a single Kazon cruiser, but couldn't compare to an entire squadron of them and had been overpowered quickly.

Which brought him back to the wormhole they had used to enter. Had _Outbound Flight_ really been the first human-crewed ship to enter this galaxy, as he had earlier assumed? He was starting to doubt it. Which meant that an earlier ship must have traveled through the wormhole... but how long ago? Hyperdrives had been in use for tens of thousands of years. Did the strange wormhole predate the hyperdrive? And if so, how was it possible to use it given that it seemed to require the use of a hyperdrive?

Yates rubbed his temples. He'd have time to think about this later. Right now, he needed to prepare to jump to the Ocampa system, now that they finally had its coordinates. Hopefully they would find the rest of the answers there.


	21. Twenty

_**20**_

Captain Kathryn Janeway placed one foot on the ground outside the Starfleet shuttle and took a long look around. Her grandfather's farmhouse had been given a fresh coat of paint, but other than that its surroundings hadn't changed in the ten years since she had last seen it. Cornfields always looked alike, and the raucous, incessant cawing of the crows served as a pointed reminder that she was back on Earth.

"Good old Bloomington," she muttered. Slinging her duffel bag over one shoulder, she reached down to grab a handful of dirt. It slipped through her fingers and formed a cloud as the dusty soil drifted back to the ground.

She heard the front door of the old farmhouse slam and looked up to see a face that, just three months ago, she would have assumed she would never have seen again. The silver-streaked hair, sharply defined cheekbones, and a pointed chin were almost like looking into a mirror.

"Kathryn?" Gretchen Janeway, her facial expression unreadable, took several cautious steps down the front of the porch.

"Mother?" The word felt strange coming out, it had been so long since she had used it this way.

Gretchen's shoulders relaxed and she began jogging forward. "Kathryn, it is you!"

When they were a few feet away from each other, she stopped short. "I heard about Voyager's return last month," Gretchen finally said. "Why didn't you call me? I was worried that you had died in that awful core breach. But nothing ever came from Starfleet."

"I was stuck in San Francisco waiting for my review board, Ma," she finally replied. "It's a long story."

Her mother harrumphed. "You could have at least called ahead. I would have put on a pot roast for you. As it is, I don't have anything ready for dinner."

"Ma, it's only eleven-hundred!" Kathryn protested, slipping into a familiar banter without really noticing. "We have all day to make dinner."

"You know full well that my pot roast takes twelve hours," Gretchen retorted. "I knew it. You've been spoiled by those replicated Starfleet rations."

"Well, not so much," Kathryn said. "We had a cook on _Voyager_."

"Really?" Gretchen seemed surprised. "That doesn't sound like standard Starfleet procedure."

"It's not. We picked up a local Talaxian junk dealer and he made himself at home in our mess hall." She laughed nervously. "Leola root stew is the one dish I _won't_ be missing."

"I'll take your word for it," her mother replied with a short laugh. "Anyway, I just put a pot of tea on, but I can always brew up a pot of coffee as well if you want."

Kathryn grimaced. "No, thanks. I just finished getting over my coffee withdrawls. I'd rather not go through _that_ again."

Gretchen frowned. "Coffee withdrawls? Well, can't really say I'm surprised. What brought that on?"

"_Voyager_'s doctor forced me to detox during the trip back. I hadn't been making the best decisions."

As they began walking back toward the house, her mother turned to face her. "So, how long is your leave?"

Kathryn slowly let a sigh escape through her teeth. "I don't know."

"It's that bad?"

"Yes," she replied. "As I said, it's a long story."

"Well, we have all day to talk about it," Gretchen said. "Unless you don't feel like it, of course."

She stifled a yawn. "Actually, I'm feeling rather tired. Do you mind if I just take a nap on the couch?"

"Your room's still there," her mother answered.

Kathryn stepped through the front door and discovered that like the surroundings, the interior of the house had not changed much. Pine paneling adorned the walls and the old oak floor creaked with each step as she walked toward the stairs.

"I'll wake you up when dinner is ready," Gretchen said, adding with a wan smile, "It's good to have you back."

* * *

. . .

* * *

It only took two nights for the novelty of being home to wear off. Kathryn had attempted to keep herself busy by diving headfirst into the farm's chores, but they were so monotonous that she found her thoughts drifting back to the Starfleet review board.

She remembered walking into the conference room as if it were yesterday. Admiral Drazman had been chosen to preside over the review board, and she wondered briefly if that decision had been made simply to torture her.

Sitting to either side of him were Admiral Nechayev, who she recalled had also been present at her first review board, and Admiral Namimby.

"I hope you don't mind," Drazman had said in his trademark slow, monotone drawl, "that I've taken over from Admiral Paris. He excused himself due to a potential conflict of interest."

"Not at all," she lied. Anyone but Droner would have been preferred.

"Due to the length of _Voyager_'s journey, this review board will take an unprecedented amount of time. We will all take turns to cover different aspects of the voyage, including scientific, tactical, strategic, and diplomatic procedures. In addition, Starfleet Command has requested that certain portions be reviewed for compliance with regulations by field experts.

"Finally, at the conclusion of the review, Admirals Nechayev, Namimby, and myself will make a recommendation to Starfleet Command as to your future career. Starfleet will be putting considerable weight on our recommendation so while it may not be final, it will certainly serve as an indicator of the final outcome."

The review board went straight downhill after that. Drazman, predictably, went over the logs in chronological order. They questioned almost every decision she made when dealing with the Caretaker, Ocampa, and the Kazon in the beginning. Drazman had even had the gall to ask why she hadn't set timed fuses on the tricobalt warheads so they could use the array to return home! Even if they could have equipped the warheads with the proper fuses in the heat of battle and beamed them into place on the array, who was to say that they wouldn't get prematurely detonated by weapons fire? Stranger things had happened, after all.

"In battle," she had replied, "Starfleet expects its captains to make rapid decisions that first and foremost protect their ship and crew. From the day _Voyager_ departed Utopia Planitia five years ago, I have held fast to that principle. I most certainly was not willing to risk the safety of my crew on a long-shot chance of getting home."

"While I agree with the need to protect ship and crew," Drazman said, "tricobalt devices are one of the oldest weapons in the Starfleet arsenal and are very well-understood. It is quite difficult to accidentally detonate a tricobalt warhead given that it relies on fusion instead of antimatter."

Drazman went on to criticize her for allowing _Voyager_ to nearly run headfirst into a singularity barely a month and a half later; the fact that he praised her for successfully finding a way out had not helped her mood very much at the time.

Then there was the matter of the Romulan captain they beamed over through a wormhole to the Alpha Quadrant twenty years in the past. This time, Admiral Nechayev chastised her for her cavalier attitude in the situation, particularly when it came to giving the Romulans information. The only rebuttal she had been able to come up with was that her crew had been stranded in the Delta Quadrant for three months at that point and they had needed the morale boost.

Nechayev had not been impressed.

She sighed and took a seat at the kitchen table, absently reaching for her black mug. Amazingly, the mug was the one item that had made it through the voyage unscathed. Not even a single chip marred its black surface.

Janeway took a sip from the mug and grimaced. Stale coffee she had grown accustomed to, but stale tea was another story entirely. Seeing no other option, she took another swig and set the mug down, then began going through the stack of mail that had accumulated over the past five years.

It was such an anachronism, she mused, but perhaps the simple charm of receiving a letter written on paper was why it had stuck around. That notion was dashed as she discarded several advertisements from the stack.

The next letter was from Indiana University. _Don't they know I already graduated from Starfleet Academy?_ she wondered as she sliced the envelope open.

* * *

_Dr. Clyde Barker, Ph.D_

_President_

_Indiana State University_

_Stardate 52290.5_

_Dear Captain Kathryn Janeway,_

_ We would like to congratulate you on successfully returning to the Alpha Quadrant. Our hearts go out to the crew members that were lost during Voyager's five-year journey._

_If you are interested in returning to Bloomington, we would be honored to offer you the position of chair of the Astrophysics Department. This position would come with full tenure in recognition of your outstanding service record in Starfleet._

_Please reply to this letter or call our office if you are interested in the position._

_We look forward to hearing from you._

_Sincerely,_

_Clyde Barker_

* * *

With a snort, she crumpled the letter up and threw it in the wastebasket. Did they really think she was ready to retire, just because her career had been temporarily put on hold by Starfleet? The sheer arrogance of the idea was astounding. Never mind that IU was nowhere near her list of top universities to teach at after retirement, assuming she decided to retire in the first place.

The next letter on the pile was addressed from Mark. The memory of her former fiancée brought a twinge of pain with it, and she put the letter down almost as fast as she had picked it up. What was done was done, and she could always read it later when she was in a better mood.

Looking for something else to do, she walked over to the food stasis unit and glanced over the local commune news that was displayed on its screen. Most of it was about crops; there were plenty of requests for volunteers to help in the fields. Work like that was monotonous, best suited for those who wanted time to think.

She just wanted something to take her mind off everything that had happened in the last two months. Something she could just get immersed in and forget about little things like losing her command. The other choice was to start having sessions with a Starfleet staff therapist. She had already rebuffed her counselor several times at Starfleet Headquarters whenever that suggestion came up. What, did they think she was going to commit suicide?

Janeway laughed quietly. Having been marooned on a planet in the Delta Quadrant with Chakotay when they had contracted a seemingly incurable disease, being temporarily suspended by Starfleet was nothing in comparison. She would pull through and get her command back; that much she was sure of.

One entry in the list finally caught her eye.

_Wanted: part-time engineer. Responsibilities include maintaining combines, antigrav tractors, and grain elevators. Compensation is negotiable in bartered goods. Start immediately._

A few hours later, she was halfway underneath a broken tractor at the agricultural park's equipment pool. Compared to a Type 6 shuttle, the tractor's antigrav unit was straightforward and uncomplicated; she had the unit fixed and halfway back together by the time she heard approaching footsteps. Probably just the operator, she decided.

"I'm almost done, Jimmy," she called out. "Just give me a couple more minutes."

"I don't know who Jimmy is," a new, vaguely familiar voice answered. He sounded amused. "But please, take your time."

Unwilling to break away with the machine nearly finished, she grabbed the last panel and secured it in place before pushing herself back out from beneath the tractor. When she finally had the chance to take a look at the new arrival's face, her jaw dropped.

"Captain Jellico?"

He coughed. "Actually, it's Admiral now."

"My apologies, Admiral," she blurted out, now acutely aware of the grease and dirt on the coveralls she was wearing. Just _where_ had that grease come from, anyway? The tractor didn't have any moving parts near the antigrav unit. "I'm sorry I'm not in proper uniform."

"No worries," Jellico replied with a smile. "You're off-duty. I must admit that I'm a bit surprised to find you here. Word is that the universities are practically falling over each other to get you."

"I'm not sure that I'm cut out for teaching," Janeway replied. "I'm just doing this to keep myself busy."

"Is it working?"

She shrugged. "Not really. Nearly everything I wind up doing reminds me of something in the Delta Quadrant."

Jellico nodded. "It's difficult to adjust to life on the ground once you're used to running a starship."

"Pardon the question," she said after brushing some dirt off herself, "but how did you find me out here?"

"Your mother said that you came out this way."

"Did she." Janeway frowned. _I hadn't even told her._ "Anyway, Admiral, may I ask why you're here?"

"For you, of course," he replied without missing a beat.

She let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Why me? Admiral Nechayev thinks I'm an incompetent failure."

"Her opinion is not the opinion of all admirals in Starfleet," Jellico rebuked.

"So did Drazman."

"Drazman is a fossil."

Janeway snorted. "I'm glad we can agree on something. What can I do for you?"

"Would you mind walking with me? I have a shuttle waiting outside."

"With respect, Admiral, I'm not dressed appropriately for going anywhere."

"Not a problem," he replied. "I can drop you off at your house to clean up and collect your belongings."

"If I may be frank, what do you have in mind?"

"I'm not sure if you are aware,' Jellico said, "but Starfleet Command put me in charge of operations at Utopia Planitia. I think it's best if you see for yourself."


	22. Twenty One

_**21**_

"Well, Orb, we're finally here," Cathi remarked as the _Headwind_ finally dropped out of hyperspace for hopefully the last time. According to the starmaps the system the Ferengi had sent her to was less than three thousand light-years away from where they had intercepted her. At the speeds their ships traveled at, the trip would have taken over a month. Normally, back home, the trip would take a day at most depending on the route chosen. But there were no routes in this galaxy, so she was stuck making short hops through the voids between the stars.

At least in theory, that is. She had looked at the charts and told them she could do it in a week, but as usual things had not gone anywhere near the plan. It seemed like every other jump she had calculated wound up dropping her out of hyperspace with a gravity well alarm, even in regions of space that were supposedly totally devoid of stars. So far, the trip had taken almost two weeks to complete. She just hoped that the customers would still be there when she arrived.

"Actually, we are not quite there yet," Orb replied. "We still have to cross the system at sublight speed."

Cathi leaned forward to take a closer look at the navicomputer. "Not if we make a short hop over to the planet."

"I believe the Ferengi were quite insistent that we remain undetected," Orb said. "The radiation of a hyperspace jump would be too obvious that close to the colony."

"Not if they don't know what to look for," Cathi retorted. "But if we just go in slow, we'll be seen for sure. What ships are in the system, anyway?"

"There are two energy sources that stand out," Orb replied. "Both are in orbit of the fourth planet."

"That could be tricky," she remarked. "Let me see."

Orb called up a schematic on the holoprojector, which showed the planet and two blue blips flying around it.

She reached out with her finger to point at the moon orbiting the planet. "Look, they're both on one side of the planet. We could come in behind the moon."

"And if they have sensors there?"

She frowned. "That could be a problem. Well, how about this. We could calculate the jump to come in right on top of the planet's atmosphere. It would be risky, but I've done it before. Then we just come in midway between the moon and their ships, and we should be low enough that the planet should block us from their sensors."

"What if it does not?"

She shrugged. "We'll just have to make sure this works."

"I do not find that reassuring."

Cathi brushed the comment off. "Oh, relax. These idiots can't possibly be worse than Corporate Sector goons and you know how many times we had run-ins with them."

"That is even less assuring."

She leaned forward to the navicomputer and started entering in the destination. Once she was satisfied, she pulled back on the activation levers and _Headwind_ shot forward, entering hyperspace just for the moment it took to cross the system.

Then the ship felt as if it had slammed into a brick wall, For a brief instant Cathi thought she had actually hit something before she recognized the cherry-red glow of superheated plasma outside the cockpit, and realized that she had just hit the atmosphere at a much higher speed than was normally safe.

_At least the shields were up_, she thought as she shoved the throttle controls into full reverse to drop the ship's suicidal speed before the atmosphere got any thicker. Finally the plasma glow disappeared, and minutes later the atmosphere darkened to a beautiful shade of azure blue.

"How far are we from the colony?"

"According to the map of the planet, the colony is almost six thousand kilometers from our position. Both of the alien ships are holding position within observation distance of it."

"Damn it," she cursed uselessly. "Well, we still have that swoop bike aboard, don't we?"

"Yes. You're not going to ask me to ride on that deathtrap, are you?"

She laughed. "Of course not. I'll just bring a comlink so you can translate for me. But you have to watch the ship."

They were now skimming through the lower atmosphere, and the viewports went white for a moment as the _Headwind_ dove through a thick cloud bank, emerging below in a vast sea of green treetops. Spotting a small gap in the trees, she flipped the YT-2400 sideways and slid the small freighter into the gap, settling it down on the forest floor some twenty meters below.

"Get out the camo netting," she said, double-checking the atmospheric readings to make sure she wouldn't be opening the ramp to something dangerous. Once it had lowered, she stepped out into the crisp, cold winter air and took a deep breath. "Wow. Really nice out here," she said to nobody in particular.

"Here is the net, Mistress Cathi," the droid suddenly said from behind her, causing her to jump slightly.

"Since when do you walk quietly?" she asked.

"You never asked if I could before," Orb replied.

She harrumphed. "And here you were complaining about how your servos are noisier than normal. Sounds like they're fine to me."

"They're 0.5 microns out of tolerance."

"Give me that net," she said, taking the ungainly bundle out of Orb's hands. She fumbled with it, trying to untangle the four repulsorpods at each corner from the massive bundle. "Where's the remote for this thing?"

"There's a remote?" Orb asked innocently.

"Go back and see if you dropped it while I straighten this damned thing out."

"Even if I did," Orb retorted, "you should know by now that my design prevents me from bending completely to the deck and thus I would be unable to retrieve the remote."

She threw a glare at him. "Then I guess I need to get a new droid."

"But I _like_ having you as my master."

"Then quit complaining and go find that remote. If you can't grab it, you can at least tell me where it is. Unless you want to untangle this mess of a net while I get the remote."

"I will look," the droid replied after only a moment's pause. "Excuse me, Mistress."

By the time Orb returned, she had finally managed to get the last of the spherical repulsorpods disengaged from the netting and was in the process of spreading the net out. The powercell charge on the repulsorpods was still quite high, so at least she didn't need to recharge them.

She stood up and followed Orb back inside the ship, returning a moment later with the remote control. The net activated with a quiet hum, lifted up several meters in the air by the pods. Then she steered it in position over the ship and slowly lowered it into place. Finally, she activated its built-in holographic grid, and after a few flickers the _Headwind_ seemed to fade away with the exception of the landing struts and the lowered ramp.

She snorted softly. It was't actually a true holographic shroud; those, in particular the personal ones, tended to be obscenely expensive. Instead Tarv had purchased a knockoff model from some trading post they'd stopped at. The net essentially took a snapshot of the surrounding scenery and reproduced as much of it as possible. It wouldn't fool an active sensor scan, but it would defeat most passive attempts at observation.

Besides, there was a sensor scrambler aboard, although she wasn't sure how well it would work on whatever sensor systems they used in this galaxy.

It took much longer for her to unpack and drag the swoop bike out of its place in the packed cargo hold. After quite a few minutes of swearing and cursing, she finally managed to switch on its repulsorlifts and push it down the ramp.

"Alright, Orb. I'm going to drop off a comlink repeater a few hundred meters away. I'll target the ship with a lasercomm. Should be pretty hard for anyone to detect."

_Damned ships in orbit_, she silently cursed. It was going to take almost a full day at the swoop's maximum speed to cover the distance to the colony, to say nothing of the return trip and _how_ was she going to get their weapons out to them? She just hoped they had some way of moving equipment over such a distance.

She strapped herself into the bike, put the enclosed helmet on, and slowly began moving through the forest in search of a suitable place for the repeater. It turned out that there was a split tree within line of sight of the ship that the repeater neatly fit into.

"Orb," she said, switching on the lasercomm. "Do you copy?"

"Loud and clear, Mistress."

"Good. Only call me if there's an emergency."

"Of course," the droid replied.

After double-checking to make sure her comlink was properly linked with the repeater, she got back on the swoop bike and raised it up to the treetop level. Then she set the inertial navigation system and cranked the bike up to full power, rocketing out over the trees at close to three hundred kilometers per hour.

Some four hours in, a red beam lanced out of the trees, just narrowly missing the swoop. Cathi cursed and killed the throttle, juking the bike down into the trees and grabbing her own blaster out of its holster. Moments later, she was down at the forest floor, looking around to try and find the shooter.

She pulled the helmet off and stuck it back into its storage position. There was a slight rustling noise in the forest and she spun around to look, but saw only a couple of branches shaking. Slowly, she eased the swoop bike over in that direction, still unable to spot anything.

Then four humanoids emerged from the underbrush around her. Two of them she could have sworn looked like perfectly normal humans, while the other two had some distinctive bony ridges and pale, grayish-colored skin. All of them were dressed in loose-fitting military-style clothes with patterns that matched the undergrowth of the forest. The apparent leader, a human man, put up his hand in the relatively universal gesture for "stop" and said something that she was guessing meant the same thing.

"Orb?" she quietly muttered into her earpiece, "Did you get that?"

"Not enough context," the droid's voice replied in her ear.

"OK, then translate this into Ferengi for me: Who are you?

She turned the speaker up so that the humanoids could hear Orb's translation. They paused, glanced at each other for a moment in evident confusion, and then their leader replied in Ferengi.

"They say they are just colonists and are wondering who you are, since you are obviously not from this planet."

"I'm a merchant," she replied, "looking for the colony."

"They say the Dominion does not permit any merchants and want to know how you got through the blockade."

"I'm afraid I can't reveal that."

"Are you a Founder?" one of the gray-skinned ones asked. It took Cathi a moment to realize that they had asked the question in Basic, likely because the accent was off.

"What's a Founder?"

"Who sent you here?" their human leader asked, completely ignoring her question.

"I have a shipment for the colony, from the Ferengi," she replied.

"It's not supposed to be here for another two weeks."

Cathi shrugged. "I was passing through and ran into the Ferengi. They hired me to get this to you. Now you're going to complain that it's early?"

The four looked at her suspiciously. "Where are the goods?"

"Safely inside my ship," she replied.

"And where is your ship?"

"Why should I tell you now? How do I know you're not going to hold me hostage and force me to hand the shipment over?"

"We already have you hostage," the gray-skinned one replied. "Unless you would like us to shoot you while you try to escape on that bike. Now drop your weapon and step away from the hoverbike."

"Fine," Cathi said with a sigh, tossing her BlasTech aside. She still had a holdout blaster hidden, and hoped they wouldn't search her. "But I'm still not going to tell you where the ship is until we can put the weapons aside and negotiate like civilized people."

The leader waved at the other three and they lowered their weapons slightly, although she noticed their hands were still firmly wrapped around the grips. "They have shapeshifters, so we have to take extra precautions." He pulled out a small scanner of some sort and held it up; it began making quiet beeping noises.

"Well?" she asked after a moment had passed. "Am I human or not?"

He put the scanner away, walked over to where she had dropped her blaster and then handed it back to her. "Sorry about all that. I'm Jon Boyd."

"Cathi Riclin," she replied as she slid the blaster back into its holster.

He pointed to the gray-skinned humanoid on his right. "This is Delak, my second in command." He then gestured to the other gray-skinned alien. "Silar, our engineer, and Marina, our sharpshooter." The last person was a tall, lanky woman with short-cropped reddish blond hair.

"Pleased to meet you," Marina said with what might have been a small wink.

"So," Jon broke in, "what do you have for us?"

Cathi closed her eyes for a moment to remember. "Several crates of food and supplies, two photon grenade launchers, fifty grenades, sixteen Cardassian disruptor rifles, and thirty type two phasers, plus one slugthrower of some sort."

"A Barrett?" Marina asked, her face brightening.

"I think that's what it was," Cathi replied. "I'm not quite sure."

Jon stepped forward. "That's good. We're very low on supplies right now anyway. So, how far away is your ship?"

She pointed back in the direction she had come. "About two thousand klicks that way."

"Klicks?"

She caught the confused look on their faces. "Oh. Kilometers."

Jon let out a low whistle. "That's pretty far. Do you think you can bring the ship any closer?"

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "Do you think they'd detect me if I did?"

"It depends," Delak said. "What kind of ship do you have?"

"A YT-2400 light freighter."

The four humans and aliens looked at her with puzzled stares before Jon spoke up. "I'm not familiar with that model. Where's it from?"

"Corellian Engineering," Cathi replied.

They exchanged glances before Jon spoke again. "I don't think we should chance it. Delak, wait here with Cathi while I go get the jumper."

When they had left, Cathi turned to Delak. "Jumper?"

"Short for puddle jumper," the alien replied. "I think it's an old Earth term."

"I see. Is that where you're from?"

The gray-skinned alien let out what might have been a snort. "No. I am a Cardassian."

Now it was Cathi's turn to frown. "The Ferengi told me that the Cardassians were allied with the Dominion."

"Officially, yes," Delak replied. "Our government is nothing more than a puppet. When they began purging the Maquis colonies here, at first we thought it would finally be our chance to reclaim our territory. Then the Dominion began treating us no better than the humans. We are third class citizens in the Dominion... we might as well be slaves. So a number of us began to fight alongside the Maquis."

"In this case, Jon and Marina?" Cathi guessed.

"Yes."

"How many Maquis are there here?"

The Cardassian looked around as if suspicious. "I am not at liberty to say. We have had many losses to the Jem'Hadar since this began. Hopefully the weapons you bring will be enough to let us make their hold on this world painful for them."

Cathi nodded. "I can see why you would want revenge."

"It is not revenge," Delak replied. "It is my desire to see a free Cardassia once again. That is why I fight." He looked her over. "How well can you handle a weapon?"

"Just fine, thank you," Cathi said in a somewhat clipped tone. "But don't think that I'm going to get myself involved in your war."

"It is not a question of whether you want to be involved in this war," the Cardassian stated in a monotone. "You are already involved."

"No, I can leave at any-" Her protest was cut off by a loud thundering noise. Moments later, a small, dagger-shaped craft streaked over the trees above followed by a deceptively slow-moving, large and ungainly craft with extended outriggers that were glowing an unnatural shade of violet.

"The Jem'Hadar have found us," Delak stated. "We will not be able to meet the others here. Can two ride on your hoverbike?"

"It's a swoop," Cathi corrected him, "and yes. Where are we going?"

"A safe location," Delak replied. "I will direct you."

"Great, I love backseat driving," she deadpanned. "Get on, let's get the hell out of here."

As it turned out, the safe location was a cave hidden in the hills to the north of where they were. Cathi flew the swoop as fast as she dared in between the trees, not wanting to break the forest canopy as she had before.

When they were about halfway there, there was a loud explosion and Cathi saw a reddish glow coming from the forest nearby.

"That wasn't the jumper, was it?" she asked.

"No," Delak replied. "I believe they were able to make it. The Jem'Hadar have likely cleared an area of forest to land their assault craft and begin a ground search."

"Wonderful," Cathi said. "You know, it's almost hopeless if you remain tied to a planet like this. Don't you have any way to escape if necessary?"

"We had a Cardassian shuttle that we stole," Delak said. "We would usually use it to get supplies. Then the Dominion changed all of the Cardassian authentication codes several months ago. We lost the shuttle and one of our best pilots."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she replied.

"I thought you did not want to become involved?"

"I don't," Cathi answered. "But it doesn't look like I have much choice right now. I can take you off-world if you want."

The Cardassian was silent for several moments. "That would be a decision for Jon to make."

Moments later, she pulled the swoop inside the entrance to the cave and shut it down. The dagger-shaped jumper she saw earlier was parked inside as well, with smoke rising from several fresh scorch marks that ran along its skin. On the aft wing surfaces, there were two cylindrical bulges with air scoops and if she looked at just the right angle, she could see the turbine blades hidden deep inside. Idly, she wondered if it had been manufactured locally or if it was mass-produced somewhere.

"This is bad," Jon said as he emerged from the depths of the cave. "One of the beetles landed a few klicks away from us. The other one's flying overhead, so we won't be able to use the jumper any more or we'll reveal ourselves."

"So what are we going to do?" Cathi asked. "If we stay here, they'll find us, won't they?"

Jon glanced back and forth between her and the foliage outside. "They will, eventually. Which is why we need to take the fight to them."

"How many ground troops do they have on each ship?"

"Over forty," Jon replied.

"Ten to one..." Cathi mused. "Not very good odds."

"We'd have better odds if I had that rifle," Marina suddenly said from behind Jon, causing him to jump slightly. "Then we could thin them out first."

"That presumes they will not be shrouded," Delak pointed out.

"Which is why I wanted a laser rangefinder on it," Marina replied. "The readings on it go crazy when you hit a shrouded Jem'Hadar."

"Well, forget that," Cathi interrupted. "What do you have right now?"

"Just type 2 compression rifles," Jon replied. "And a few power packs, but that's not going to be enough to take on a shipload of hardhats."

"I've got some improvised explosives," Marina added. "We could set claymores in the forest."

"That would take out a few of them," Jon said, "but it would also just piss the rest of them off. I wouldn't be surprised if they just fire a torpedo at us as soon as they locate this cave."

"It sounds like no matter what we do, we're screwed," Cathi observed. "Why can't we just use the jumper under the forest canopy? It looks like it'll work."

"It might, but it'll be really slow." Jon sighed and walked to the front of the cave, looking out at the dense forest beyond. "To get back to where you parked your ship, it'll take days at that speed. The reason we're in this cave is because there are minerals in the rock that effectively block their sensors. Once we leave the cave, we'll be wide open."

Cathi looked back and forth between Jon and the jumper several times. "When you went overhead, this looked like it was faster than the Jem'Hadar ship. Why can't we just outrun them?"

Jon exchanged glances with the Cardassians, then shrugged. "We've never really tried before. I suppose anything's better than just sitting around in this cave waiting for them to kill us." He turned to the open ramp at the side of the jumper. "Let's load the valuable stuff up, then get out of here."

The rest of the Maquis team dispersed quickly, returning minutes later with computers, weapons, and food. With Jon's help, Cathi pushed the swoop up the ramp into the jumper.

In less than twenty minutes, the Maquis had emptied everything they considered valuable from the base into the jumper and secured it with webbing inside. Cathi followed them up inside and began strapping herself into an open seat while Delak sealed the hatch.

"Everyone ready?" Jon asked. After everybody acknowledged, he powered up the jumper and the cabin was filled with the loud noise from the aft turbines. "Here we go..."

Cathi was slammed back into the seat from the sudden burst of acceleration as the jumper rocketed out of the cave. Evidently, the small craft didn't have any kind of inertial dampening system.

"Beetle at three o'clock," Marina reported a moment later.

"Re-configuring shields for hypersonic flight," Jon said. "Going to full power."

Once again, Cathi was slammed back into the seat with the renewed acceleration.

"The Jem'Hadar are falling back," Marina said. "Hang on... Looks like they're going to try a sub-orbital hop over us. I think it'll take them about twenty minutes."

"We'll be there in ten," Jon replied.

True to his word, ten minutes later the jumper was settling down in the clearing next to the _Headwind_, although Cathi had to warn him to keep him from setting down on the hidden freighter.

Almost before he had settled down, Marina and the two Cardassians had unstrapped themselves, opened the hatch, and began unloading the craft.

"I'll set the autopilot as a diversion," Jon remarked from the cockpit. "Maybe that'll throw them off for a few more minutes. How long does your ship take to warm up, Cathi?"

"It's already prepped for takeoff," she replied before she unstrapped herself and started down the ramp. Then she tapped her comlink. "Orb, drop the ramp. We have guests and we're in one hell of a hurry."

The droid acknowledged and moments later, a landing ramp seemed to appear from thin air in the forest clearing.

"Your ship is cloaked?" Marina asked in surprise. "I thought only capital ships could carry cloaks."

"It's just a cheap active camo net," Cathi replied as she steered the swoop out and toward her ship's ramp. "It can only fool the most basic sensors."

"Still, that's pretty useful," Marina remarked. "I can think of plenty of times I would have _killed_ to have something like that."

"Don't get any ideas," Jon said.

Marina threw him an offended look. "You don't think I would really be dumb enough to do that _now_, would you?"

He shrugged. "Would you?"

She stuck out her middle finger at him before marching up into the _Headwind_ with an armload of explosives.

Shaking her head at the exchange, Cathi went up into the ship behind Marina and stepped into the cockpit, where Orb was seated in the co-pilot's chair.

"Who are they?" the droid asked.

"The customers," she replied. "We were attacked by the Dominion. We're just going to take them off-world somewhere."

"For free?" Orb asked.

She was in the middle of checking the status displays when Orb asked the question. Her mouth opened and then closed as she considered it. "Well, no. I just haven't discussed payment yet."

"Therefore it's free," Orb replied.

"That's not what I said."

Orb tilted his head at a slight angle. "It has been my experience that it is almost always impossible to ask a customer for payment after services have been rendered if you did not first inform the customer of the cost."

"Fine time for you to pick up good business sense," Cathi shot back. "Well, try this one. There are two corvettes, filled with soldiers, that are hunting us down. If we don't get off this planet in the next five minutes, we are dead. Therefore, we don't get paid anything."

"I will start the pre-flight checklist," Orb said.

Cathi stepped out of the cockpit and nearly crashed into Delak. "We have loaded everything," the Cardassian said. "Jon has sent the jumper away but it seems the Jem'Hadar have not taken the bait and will be here in two minutes. Are you prepared to take off?"

She stepped around him for the camo net's remote, activating the repulsorpods and sending it down to the floor of the clearing. Once she had finished winding it up, she walked back into the ship and sealed the hatch.

"Can we help with anything?" Jon asked.

"Do you think you can run one of the laser turrets?"

"I'm not sure if I could," Jon mused, "but I think Marina and Silar could figure it out."

"Good." She pointed down the tight access corridor. "Second opening on the right, take the ladders up or down."

While Jon headed back to the acceleration couch in search of Marina and the Cardassian, she dashed into the cockpit and hurriedly strapped herself into the pilot's seat. True to his word, Orb had already run through most of the pre-flight checks. She flicked the repulsorlifts on, disengaged the throttle interlock, activated the shields, and then grabbed the intercom. "Everyone strapped in?"

"Yeah. How do you turn this thing on?" Marina's voice came over the comm.

Cathi tried to visualize the controls. It had been a while since she'd actually been in the turret. "Lift the upper right cover, then flip the red toggle. That's the power. The switch under the upper left cover arms the guns. Then just use the two sticks to aim the gun and pull the triggers to fire. There's a targeting grid in the center that should show you what you're aiming at, just try to get the target into the box. It'll automatically compensate for range."

"Got it."

She glanced up through the viewport, and not seeing anything overhead, slammed the repulsors to full power. The YT-2400 shot up like a rocket, breaking through the forest canopy and rocketing into the upper atmosphere.

"Hold up," Jon said breathlessly as he came running into the cockpit.

"I thought you were strapped in!"

"I was."

An alarm began beeping on the panel and Cathi checked the scopes. Sure enough, the Jem'Hadar ship was bearing down on them.

"Well hang on then!" She grabbed the throttle controls and pushed them as far as they would go. The ship surged forward, with only the barest hint of acceleration thanks to the inertial compensators. A violet-hued beam lanced through the atmosphere where the ship had been just seconds before.

"It only takes one or two hits like that to take out a shuttle," Jon warned.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Cathi replied. Another beam shot past and she put the ship into a series of twists and turns.

"We'll be clear of the atmosphere in a few minutes. Where are we going?"

"There's a planet in the Badlands that we should be able to go to. I'll get it for you once we go to warp."

"What do you mean, once we go to warp? I need the coordinates now so I can calculate the jump!" Cathi replied, throwing the ship into another barrel roll as more violet beams sizzled past the small freighter.

"Weird ship you've got," Jon muttered as he pulled out his PADD.

One of the shots managed to graze the side of the ship, and a new set of alarms went off in the cockpit.

"That tickled," she remarked, grabbing the intercom. "Marina, Silar, I hope you're ready on those cannons. We're going to make an attack run."

"We're _what_?" Jon blurted out.

"Well, I have to do _something_ while you get those coordinates!"

"I'm ready," Marina reported.

Cathi yanked back on the controls, throwing the ship into a hard upward turn before suddenly pitching it back down. The Jem'Hadar corvette behind tried to mimic the maneuver and she then put the freighter into a wide barrel roll before punching straight down. As soon as she could tell the Jem'Hadar took the bait, she cut the throttle and ran the repulsors back up to full power. The ship suddenly came to a stop relative to the planet, practically bouncing off of its gravity well, and then it shot straight up through the atmosphere.

Not expecting the maneuver, the Jem'Hadar corvette continued past them before attempting to slow down. Cathi idly noted that its large bulk gave it terrible performance in the atmosphere, and as she lined the freighter up with the corvette's stern, both Marina and Silar leaned into it with the twin lasers. Two staccato streams of red bolts began spraying all over the larger ship, causing its shields to flare brightly where they impacted.

"Those don't look like lasers," Jon remarked in surprise.

"Yeah, I really have no idea why they're called that," Cathi replied.

Now on the defensive, the Jem'Hadar ship began accelerating up in an attempt to get out of the speed-robbing atmosphere. Holding onto the controls, Cathi stuck right behind it as they continued to hammer away at its aft quarters.

Just as it was clearing the atmosphere, there was a brighter flash from its aft shields and suddenly she could see small explosions as the shots struck armor plating. Marina gave a war whoop over the intercom and continued pelting the larger ship with fire.

Now free of the atmospheric friction, the Jem'Hadar craft began spinning around, probably to point its main weapons at them.

"Kriff," Cathi exclaimed, grabbing the controls and pushing _Headwind_ into a dive below the Jem'Hadar ship. "Jon, you have those coordinates yet?"

"Yes."

She glanced over at the droid in the co-pilot's seat. "Orb, calculate the route, will you?"

"Yes, Mistress... but we are too close to the planet to execute a jump right now."

"I'm aware of that!" she snapped. Trying to stay aft of the Jem'Hadar craft, she pointed the ship perpendicular to the planet and ran the engines and repulsors back up to full power. "How much longer until we're clear?"

"Two minutes," Orb replied.

The cockpit was suddenly illuminated by a flash of violet. "Well, I guess they have their guns aimed at us again," Jon remarked.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Cathi snapped. "If you don't mind, I'm trying to keep us from dying here."

The seconds counted down agonizingly slow as Cathi continued making evasive maneuvers, all while trying to put more distance between themselves and the planet below. Then the ship suddenly seemed to buck, and the shield indicators on the panel all flashed red at the same time.

"We're doomed," Orb moaned.

"Pull yourself together, you overgrown rustbucket," Cathi retorted. "How much longer until we can jump?"

"Thirty seconds."

When they were down to ten seconds, the Jem'Hadar ship scored another solid hit. The shield indicators briefly flashed red before going out entirely, and Cathi cursed as the acrid stench of burning electronics drifted into the cockpit. _Just what I need now. Battle damage._

"Everyone alright back there?"

"I need a fire extinguisher," Silar's voice replied.

"Look for a panel with big red arrows next to it, and push," Cathi replied.

Then Orb announced that they were clear of the gravity well, and she grabbed the hyperdrive controls. As always, the stars seemed to blur before being replaced by the usual mottled tunnel look.

Jon, on the other hand, looked out the viewport in confusion. "What happened?"

"We just jumped to hyperspace," she replied. "Relax. They can't follow us."

He considered what she had said for a moment. "So this doesn't have a warp drive?"

Cathi shrugged. "I don't even know what that is."

Jon threw her a perplexed look. "How could you not know? It's faster than light. Everyone uses it."

"Well, where I'm from, they call it hyperdrive."

He stood up and looked forward. "This isn't warp. I've never seen anything like it." Then he let out a sigh. "Forget it. I just hope you have enough food on board, because it's going to take us the better part of a month to get to the Badlands."

She pulled up the map she'd gotten from the Ferengi and had Orb overlay the coordinates for their destination on it. "Well, normally I could get you there in a few hours, but with all the stops I'll have to make it's probably going to take a few days. By the way, why do they call it the Badlands?"

"How is that possible?" Jon asked, ignoring the question. "Even Starfleet can't get there that fast."

She shrugged. "You're telling me. I've never seen a warp drive being used, so I don't know how they work or what they do, or even how fast they go. Who's Starfleet, by the way?"

Now Jon gave her an even more confused glare. "You really aren't from around here, are you?"

"What made you think I was?"

He slumped back in his seat. "I don't know what to think any more. You've got some weird hyperdrive that you claim is faster than anything Starfleet's come up with, laser cannons that aren't lasers but are powerful enough to take out Jem'Hadar shields, and all of this is stuffed into a ship smaller than a Federation fighter. And you act like you don't even know what Starfleet is. Just _who _are you?"

"I already told you," she replied. "I'm just a smuggler."


	23. Twenty Two

_**22**_

The trip from Earth to Mars only took minutes at low warp aboard the shuttle, and before she knew it they had docked at Utopia Planitia.

"Welcome back," Jellico said as they stepped through the shuttle's rear hatch onto the deck of the station's spacious shuttlebay.

"Thank you," Janeway replied. "So, is _Outbound Flight_ still here?"

"Their main ship left for Quadra Sigma III last week to set up a colony there. They sent another ship back to their galaxy and left one here with a few Jedi diplomats."

She frowned. "Where are they right now?"

"On Earth, I believe. From what I understand, they're having discussions with Starfleet on some possible joint training and operations."

"Really?" She thought back to when they had first boarded _Outbound Flight_, accidentally triggering a security alarm. The automated defenses had deployed, sending specialized "destroyer" droids to eliminate them. It was only after talking to Master Helsani that she realized just how close they had all come to being killed. Droidekas, he had said, were relentless pursuers and nearly impossible to disable with handheld weapons.

_Those would have been really useful for us on quite a few occasions_, she realized.

"According to Master C'baoth," Jellico explained, "while their galaxy has not had a widespread conflict in the last thousand years, there are local disturbances every few years, so they do have a fair amount of knowledge and technology related to ground and space combat."

They walked around a bend in the corridor, and Janeway paused to glance out a nearby viewport at some of the ships outside. Most seemed to be heavily battle-damaged. "Did they say what their idea of a local disturbance is?"

He let out a forced laugh. "I think they would consider this war exactly that."

"In other words," she mused, "if they wanted to invade, we couldn't do much more than slow them down temporarily."

"My thoughts exactly," Jellico replied. "Which is why we need to get our hands on their technology. Even though they've done everything they can to help us so far, I don't know if everyone else in their galaxy is like that. It seems that Master C'baoth is a bit of an outcast among his own people."

"Well," Janeway replied, "their ship was attacked before it wound up here. I think _somebody_ there wanted to get rid of them-and probably won't be too happy to find out they survived."

"Which just highlights the urgency of the situation," Jellico said. "And that brings me to why I brought you here. Since they are unwilling to allow us access to their hyperdrive at the moment, Starfleet has given the Daystrom Institute the green light to try and develop a working transwarp-class drive system from the technology you picked up in the Delta Quadrant."

Janeway's brow furrowed. "Were you planning on using _Voyager_ as the testbed?"

"No," he replied. "The structural damage to the engineering section was too severe, so they wrote the ship off. After the engineers finish going over it I'm not sure if they plan on sending it to a museum or just scrapping it."

"Oh." She paused in thought. "I thought I saw some other ships earlier that were being fitted with new engineering hulls."

Jellico snorted in derision. "You mean the Frankenships. Starfleet is so hard up that they told us to start making torpedo wagons out of whatever we had lying around in the boneyards. Problem is, aside from the physical problems involved in bashing two separate hulls together, most of the systems on the ships are completely incompatible. To give you an example, we had to install additional impulse reactors in most of the primary hulls because we couldn't match the EPS conduits from the engineering hull to the primary hull."

"Sounds like B'Elanna's worst nightmare," Janeway remarked.

"Let me tell you, it's any engineer's worst nightmare. The reputation of those ships is so bad, and most of them get sent to the front lines anyway, that being assigned to one is considered worse than being challenged to an honor duel by a Klingon." He looked out a nearby window and sighed. "What can I do? I've tried to tell them that it's not worth spending our resources on old garbage when we could put the same effort into new production. They won't listen."

"I had no idea things had gotten that bad since we left," she replied. "The updates we received didn't sound pretty, but this is even worse." She glanced back up at Jellico. "Why are you running a shipyard of all things? I thought you were commanding a task force over at the Cardassian border."

"I was," Jellico admitted. "About a year ago, Captain Sisko and Admiral Ross came up with a plan to retake Deep Space Nine and regain control of the wormhole. Second, Fifth, and Ninth fleets were to group at Starbase 375 where they would be joined by a Klingon battle fleet. In theory, we were supposed to have over a thousand ships at our disposal.

"Four days before we were supposed to launch, we received intel from operatives on Deep Space Nine that the Cardassians had found a way to shut down the minefield. There was an emergency meeting and Admiral Ross decided to launch while we had the element of surprise. Unfortunately for us, we only had about three quarters of the fleet ready, and the Klingons still hadn't agreed to help.

He shook his head sadly. "By the time we reached Bajor, the Cardassians had deactivated the minefield and the Dominion force was twice the size we expected it to be. We were outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and out of options before the battle even began."

"But you survived," Janeway stated.

"Yes," Jellico replied. "Barely. I was commanding a wing of _Galaxy_-class ships from the USS _Magellan_. Admiral Ross ordered me to hold my ships back while they probed the enemy lines for weaknesses using attack fighters. They found an opening in the Cardassian fleet. It looked deliberate, but we didn't have any other option so we went in phasers hot.

He let out a weak laugh. "I don't think the Cardies or the Dominion really thought we would take the option. We tore through the Cardassian defenses and went straight to Deep Space Nine, which was our secondary objective. Captain Sisko was certain that if we denied them the station, it would severely weaken their system defenses. I thought otherwise, but it didn't matter at that point. We succeeded in destroying the station and were about to head toward Bajor to try and escape when the Dominion dropped the hammer on us.

"The Klingons showed up a few minutes later, but at this point the Dominions had around three times the number of ships our intel had said. The only thing the Klingons succeeded in doing was providing enough of a distraction to allow the core of our fleet to escape."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Janeway remarked.

He let out another tired laugh. "It is when you look at the order of battle. We started with close to eight hundred ships and left with less than two hundred. The Dominion got access to the wormhole at the cost of Deep Space Nine and about twelve hundred ships. We've lost all of our agents in the Bajoran system, so Starfleet really has no idea how many ships they've diverted through the wormhole since.

"It was a disaster, plain and simple. And to top it off, Admiral Ross and Captain Sisko were killed when the flagship was rammed by Jem'Hadar attack ships. I was the most senior officer left, so Starfleet blamed me."

"By promoting you to Admiral?"

"Well, I was a hero to some for at least getting them out alive, so they were forced to recognize that. Grudgingly, I suppose."

He raised his arms up and waved them at their surroundings before letting them fall back to his waist. "So here I am. A supposed failure of an Admiral, running a shipyard in the middle of the most critical trial this Federation has ever faced." He looked the captain straight in the eyes. "I'll be damned if I can't do anything about this, and that is where you come in."

She was quiet for a moment while the words sank in. "What do you mean?"

"You'll see," he said cryptically. The corridor ended at another set of doors that slid apart with a quiet whoosh, opening onto another shuttlebay. Jellico gestured toward the nearest one which sat with its hatch opened, and she climbed up inside. A moment later, the Admiral passed her and took his seat at the controls.

"Please, sit," he gestured to the co-pilot's seat next to him. "The view is better this way."

She regarded him skeptically as she sat down. "I doubt you brought me all the way out here for sightseeing and a chat."

The shuttle rose and slipped out of the bay in silence while Jellico worked the controls. "You're right," he finally said, rounding one of the station's docking pylons. "But you must admit this is an excellent view."

They swept past a series of interlinked space docks, each one holding a starship in partial stages of completion. Janeway counted four _Akira_-class gunships and three plow-shaped _Steamrunner_-class frigates, along with some ships that she coudn't quite identify.

"Our main contribution to the war effort," Jellico said as he followed her gaze. The shuttle began curving away from the space docks and was soon approaching the opposite side of the orbital shipyard, where yet more interlinked frameworks littered the horizon. Spread in between frameworks were battle-damaged hulls anchored by tractor beams. "Welcome to the Frankenship yards," he stated, voice dripping with disdain.

"Is that _Voyager?_" Janeway asked, pointing to an _Intrepid_ primary hull that had most of its duranium armor plating torn off, revealing the truss structure below.

The Admiral squinted. "That's it."

"Would you mind taking us closer?" Janeway asked.

"I seem to have misjudged you," he replied. "You have a sentimental streak."

"No," she corrected him. "Not sentimental. Just curious."

As they drew closer, she could make out the yellow worker bees of the shipyard hands flying around the primary hull. Several were welding or cutting at remaining portions of the armor, while others were removing parts from the internal areas of the ship.

She was reminded of flies buzzing around a rotting carcass. _It's just a ship_, she told herself. Yet the sight remained just as disturbing as before.

"I've seen enough," she said after watching for several more long moments. "Please, continue."

Jellico turned the shuttle and weaved his way through more junked ships and spacedocks before finally slowing down in front of one that held what seemed to be a complete starship. As they cleared the edge of the spacedock, Kathryn drew a sharp breath. The streamlined arrowhead shape within was unmistakable.

"What's _Prometheus_ doing here?" she asked.

"It's a perfect example of the kind of waste that Starfleet has become known for," he replied acerbically.

She looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean? It destroyed a Romulan Warbird."

"Starfleet spent twenty years and countless worker hours developing the multi-vector assault system," he retorted, "and all it can do is chase off a Romulan or Klingon threat that doesn't exist. It's a waste against the Dominion and worse than useless against the Borg."

He lined the shuttle up with _Prometheus_'s narrow shuttlebay entrance and guided it in for a smooth landing.

"So what are you doing with it?" she asked.

With a slight shudder, the shuttle landed on the deck and Jellico activated the ramp. "We're converting it into a unified ship," he replied as he stood up. "We already removed almost two thousand tons of armor plate from the internal structure, reinforced the frame, and welded the sections back together. This ship should now be faster, more efficient, and stronger than it was before."

She followed Jellico out on the shuttlebay deck. Crates, loose equipment, and parts were scattered haphazardly around the walls. "So you're turning it back into a traditional battlecruiser," she surmised.

"That's the goal," Jellico agreed. "Right now it's down to the armament it had in its normal mode, since we had to take out all the internal weapons."

"Are you going to add more?" she asked.

Jellico shook his head. "Not immediately. Starfleet sees this as a technology demonstrator." The turbolift doors slid open and they stepped inside. "Deck 12, Engineering."

"A demonstrator for what?" Janeway asked once the doors had closed.

"They want to see if this class is worth funding," he replied. "As well as a few other things. Here we go."

Having never been in the Engineering section of the _Prometheus_ before, Janeway didn't know what to expect when the doors slid open. She had heard how the ship used four compact warp cores to provide power while separated, so the pancaked warp core at the back of Engineering didn't come as too much of a surprise. What did come as a surprise was the glowing sphere that sat in its own area in front of the warp core.

"You didn't," she stated in disbelief. "So that's what you meant."

Jellico smiled. "Now you're beginning to see the picture."

"This is why you brought me here. It wasn't even about _Voyager._"

"Yes, and no."

Janeway looked around herself and noted the general state of disarray that the engineering area was in. "I would also guess that you're still nowhere near completion."

"Quite true."

"Well, it doesn't matter either way," she said with a sigh. "I'm suspended from active duty."

He gave her another one of his infuriating smiles. "I may be stuck here, but I still have _some_ pull with Starfleet," he replied. "This is your command, assuming you still want it."

"How did you manage that?" she asked, stunned.

His smile widened. "Well, the case I made to Starfleet Command was that you are the only active captain in Starfleet to have experience using a transwarp-class drive. I also recall you had very high marks on your previous science missions, so this assignment just made sense. You _are_ interested, right?"

"Yes, but..." Her voice trailed off as he brain struggled to process all the information. "Just _how_ did they manage to build a quantum slipstream core in only three weeks? We worked for _months_ on one and it _still_ nearly killed us all!"

"It's just a mock-up," Jellico replied. "They wanted to make sure it would fit. The real thing is still undergoing design review at the Daystrom Institute."

"I see." There was a long pause while she considered the implication of his statements. "So is there any word about the crew yet or is it too early to ask?"

Jellico nodded. "I've been told that Starfleet plans on assigning an expert engineering crew. Who that consists of, I have no idea. We should have more information about a month before we launch."

"If you don't mind," Janeway asked, "could you request B'Elanna Torres and Seven of Nine? I would trust those two more than any so-called experts in Starfleet when it comes to quantum slipstream drives."

"I've already asked," Jellico said, "but I was told that both of them are still awaiting debriefing. I'll see if I can light some fires in Command and get the ball rolling."

"Thank you, Admiral."

He held up his hand. "No need to thank me. If anything, thank _you_. This technology is vital to the Federation and I'm glad to have an experienced captain on board.

* * *

. . .

* * *

"We've arrived in the Ocampa system, Sir."

Captain Yates slowly opened one eye to the pitch darkness of his quarters. A small red light was blinking barely a foot away on the intercom unit, and he reached out to tap it. He realized a moment later that he had missed as several items went crashing down to the deck, and made a second attempt to hit the button.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he replied, shutting the intercom off. "Room, lights on half."

The lights gradually rose in brightness, giving his eyes time to adjust. Yates ripped the sheets off himself, swung his legs out, and proceeded to go through the motions of getting dressed all while his mind was churning at a klick per second.

According to Maje Zerin, Ocampa was one of the systems they had claimed as their territory, but other than a massive space station operated by a powerful being known as the 'Caretaker', there really was very little of value. Since _Voyager_ had destroyed the station years before, and hence doomed the native inhabitants to a slow heat death, the Kazon had essentially abandoned it and moved on to more fruitful pursuits.

Yates, however, wanted to see the remains of this array for himself. Given the technical sophistication (or lack thereof) of the Kazon, he considered it a very real possibility that they had overlooked something.

"How does the situation look?" he asked Commander Rowin as he stepped out of the turbolift.

"Frankly, it's a mess," Rowin replied. "We've located a debris field orbiting the fifth planet that appears to be the remains of the array Zerin described. However, we have counted at least twenty small freighters in the field."

"Scavengers?"

"It would appear so."

"Great." Yates wanted to sigh. Just when it seemed like they would have a break in their search, he was being forced to fight more natives for the information. "Have you picked up any transmissions from them?"

"No. Several of them have fired on each other since we arrived, however, so it would stand to reason that not all of them are allied."

Yates placed a hand on his chin in thought. "I suppose if we just try to capture them, we'll just manage to scare them off."

"Well," Rowin began, "if they behave similar to scavengers from our galaxy, then we could pose as interested buyers."

"Which leaves this ship out of the picture as it would be too intimidating," Yates replied, "but a shuttle should work."

"I'll begin preparations immediately."

* * *

. . .

* * *

Corporal Landot was bored.

So far, he had spent over three hours aboard a _Lambda_-class shuttle. On one of the civilian models, that would not necessarily be a bad thing - depending on what the buyer was prepared to pay, you could get anything from extra plush acceleration couches to full on sleeping quarters. However, the Empire never had been one to splurge on its military hardware, and it showed in the basic, rock-hard passenger seats that filled about half of the shuttle's hold area.

For what was probably the hundredth time, he looked across the aisle at the Navy lieutenant sitting there. Presumably in command of the mission, Lieutenant Ray Kavel was one of the wet-behind-the-ears sorts who had never really had a chance to do things any other way besides the textbook method. Which, Rob reflected, was kind of sad given that Lt. Kavel had been a lieutenant for the better part of four years already.

_Come to think of it, that's probably why he's still a lieutenant. There was an old saying among stormtroopers... the most dangerous thing in the Imperial Army was a second lieutenant with a map and direction-finder._

He leaned over to take a glance at the datapad that Kavel was cradling in his lap. The lieutenant had been focused on the thing since they had left the ship. Given the simplicity of their mission, Rob found it hard to believe that Ray was still going over the mission briefing.

Sure enough, the datapad was currently displaying an exaggerated caricature of a Twi'lek woman. _Dating sim_, Rob thought with amusement. Then, for lack of anything better to do, he decided to play with the lieutenant's head.

_After all, isn't that what Lieutenants are for?_

"So, have you discovered any exciting new revelations about our mission?"

Ray shrugged. "We're going to try negotiating with unknown alien races for some technology that may or may not even be functional. Seems like a roundabout way to go when we could have just jumped in, tractored in the freighters, and interrogated them."

"Well," Rob slowly remarked, "if you were actually reading the mission briefing, you would know that command decided against that because of how spread out the freighters are. They didn't want to risk scaring everyone away."

"What difference does it make?" Ray asked. "We're still going to negotiate."

Rob shrugged. "Speaking of which, how are the negotiations going with that Twi'lek chick you've got there?"

"What?" Ray glanced around himself, cheeks flushing crimson. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Cut the nerf crap," Rob replied. "I saw you playing that sim. Let me guess, you've been working at her for three hours and still haven't gotten to first base yet."

Defeated, Ray let his shoulders slump. "No. I've been insulted, slapped, kicked in the groin, and pretty much everything _else_ so far."

Rob snorted quietly. "Kriff, man, what did you do to her?"

"Nothing!" Ray protested. "The game's manual said compliments and presents were the best way to get the girls, but every time I try to compliment her she gets angry, and the presents just get thrown back at me!"

"Well, what have you been saying?"

Ray shrugged. "Oh, you know, just normal pickup lines... stuff like that."

Rob wanted to break out laughing, but covered his mouth. "Let me get this straight... you're trying _pickup lines_ on a simulated character?"

"What's wrong with that?"

Unable to contain himself, Rob broke out in laughter. "Because pickup lines only work in the holovids! They don't work in real life!"

Ray frowned. "What do you mean? Sure they work."

The corporal cocked his head to the side and stared at the lieutenant with an incredulous look. "OK, I'll bite. When did a pickup line work for you?"

"Um..." Ray considered the question. "That cantina we were at on Nar Shaddaa the time we went on leave there. Real nice girl, too... and sweet _kriff_, she was good in bed. Too bad I never got her info."

Rob started laughing even harder, much to Ray's consternation. "Let me ask you this... Was she there the next morning? How about your wallet, was that still there?"

The lieutenant's mouth fell open. "Wait a second. You mean..."

Rob nodded slowly. "Yep."

_"Kriff!_" Ray exclaimed. "And that was about a month's pay she took, too. Well_,_ at least that explains the rash I had down there a week later..."

Landot doubled over in laughter. "Ray, you're a born sucker if I ever saw one."

"I am not!"

"Right. Just keep telling yourself that. I'll go grab some popcorn."

Ray's face suddenly became serious. "You can't talk to a superior officer like that."

"Oh, I'm sorry... did I push your buttons? Here, let me get a handkerchief... Oh, right, I don't have any."

"I'm warning you..."

"Oh yeah?" Rob leaned forward. "So, any ideas what you're going to do?"

"Don't tempt me."

"Hey, Corporal," Sergeant Kriglen suddenly spoke up. "Don't annoy the Lieutenant. He's sensitive." The remark was followed by muffled snickering from the other troopers in the seats behind.

"Yes, Sergeant," Rob said, snapping off a deliberately sloppy salute. More snickering followed and Ray turned away.

"I hate you guys."

Rob sat quietly for a few moments after the remark. "That's OK, we all love you anyway." The snickering turned into loud snorts and chuckles.

"That's enough!" Ray finally snapped, jumping to his feet and tossing the datapad aside. "I know you guys are the largest group of pranksters and jackasses outside Corellia, but we have a kriffing mission to do here!"

"Says the one playing the dating sim," someone muttered.

"You know what, private?" Ray shot a glare that could pierce durasteel. "I don't have to explain myself to you. Don't forget that I'm the most senior officer aboard this ship."

The cabin of the shuttle became quiet enough to hear the creaking of stormtrooper armor.

"Right. Corporal, you were asking about our plan. Well, here it is..."

* * *

. . .

* * *

Several hours later, after they had unloaded the shuttle inside _Diversion_'s tiny hangar, Lt. Kavel found himself being stared down by an obviously irritated Lt. Whenne.

"You were supposed to be looking for anything resembling a computer core or data storage unit," Whenne said morosely, gesturing to the pile of burnt and scorched metal pieces. "What the hell do you call this?"

"This was all they had!" Ray retorted.

"Kriff. And no doubt Captain Yates is still looking for me to pull _some_ sort of useful information out of this pile of alien junk." The analyst palmed his face. "This could take me forever, assuming any of this crap is even from a computer!"

Ray picked up a slightly scorched piece of metal that was imprinted with alien glyphs. "The scavenger I got this from said it was a computer," he offered.

Whenne grabbed the piece out of Ray's hands and looked it over thoroughly. "Yeah. It's from a computer alright. It's a _kriffing piece of sheet metal, you idiot!_"

"Well how was I supposed to know the difference? It's alien technology!"

The analyst held the piece up in front of Ray's nose and pointed to it. "See this? There are no circuit traces, no connectors, plugs, sockets, wires, or fibers of any sort on this sheet of Force-knows-what kind of alloy. All there is is printed lettering on one side. _This is not a piece of a computer_."

"OK! Fine! I get it, I'm wrong. So is _anything_ we brought back computer-related, or do I have to go do this all over again?"

Whenne sighed. "Let's spread this pile out so I can see what you got. I hope for your sake there's something useful in here."

"Yeah," Ray groaned, stooping down to grab several pieces. "Tell me about it."


	24. Twenty Three

_**23**_

Luke Skywalker danced back a step to avoid being scored by the viridian lightsaber blade wielded by his opponent. It wouldn't have done any damage even if it had touched him, since it was a low powered training saber, but a touch still counted against him and he wasn't about to let that happen.

He glanced around the sparring room aboard the _Jade Sabre_, noting the sweat that was dripping down Mara's brow. Her face seemed positively radiant, and the swelling in her abdomen was unmistakable. She seemed more alive than he had ever seen her-

Luke grunted suddenly as she used the Force to shove him backwards. He managed to recover his footing after only two steps, and brought his own training saber into the en garde position.

"How's the baby affecting your stance?" he asked.

"I'm still in one piece, aren't I?" She winked at him. "But you know what, farmboy, if you want to use those healing hands of yours later on I'm not going to complain about it. Now get over here before I kick your sexy ass back to Tatooine."

Training saber humming, he chuckled as he took a few steps toward her. "I would return the favor, but it's just not proper etiquette to do that to a lady, pregnant or not."

"Oh, so now you're going to hold back just because I have something growing inside me? You of all people should know that most thugs don't show that kind of restraint."

"I know," he replied. "I never said anything about holding back." He launched into her, the blade dancing almost of its own accord. Her own blade sang as she parried his blows, the two Jedi locked into what normally would have been a deadly dance. Each cut and thrust was deftly parried, each defensive action followed up with an offensive move.

As they fought each other to a standstill, he leaned forward, pushing the locked blades to the side, and kissed her on the lips. Her eyes snapped wide open before relaxing again, and she let her saber drop to the floor where it shut itself off automatically. Then she wrapped her arms around her husband, enjoying the moment for as long as possible.

Unfortunately, that didn't turn out to be very long at all. "Uncle Luke?" a voice rang through the ship. Moments later, Anakin's head appeared in the opening of the sparring room. "Oh. Sorry."

Mara unwrapped her arms and went to sit down while Luke walked over to his nephew. "What's the matter?"

"Just got a call from Fleet Command. Admiral Kre'fey wants to see you immediately."

Luke nodded. "Well, let's not keep him waiting."

Typical of Coruscant skylane traffic, it took them close to an hour to cover the distance from the spaceport pad where the _Jade Sabre_ was berthed to the offices of the New Republic Defense Force's Fleet Command. With its critical role in the security of the New Republic, Fleet Command was buried within the massive bulk of the former Imperial Palace, over a kilometer beneath the surface of the buildings that made up the artificial mountain.

The air taxi dropped the three Jedi off in front of the main entrance, a massive set of doors that led to the Grand Corridor. The corridor, nearly a kilometer in length, was fortunately lined with moving walkways that Mara seemed to be glad to take advantage of. As they made their way through, Luke glanced up and noted the scaffolding covering the walls. The Senate had been making noise for years about replacing some of the more Imperial elements of the architecture in the Corridor.

While he was watching, there was a slight cracking noise as several floating labor droids detached one of the massive, multi-segmented round windows that topped the vertical slits which let in most of the light to the chamber. As he looked at the window, he couldn't help but be reminded of his time in the Emperor's throne room aboard the second Death Star almost twenty-five years ago, gazing out of an identically-styled viewport as the Rebel fleet had been subjected to the overkill of the Death Star's primary weapon.

He brought his head back down and caught Mara's gaze. She had also been watching, he realized, and he briefly wondered what she thought of the process. After all, she had practically been raised in the halls of Imperial Palace.

"I always thought those windows were ugly," she remarked after catching his unasked question. "Good riddance."

It took several more minutes for them to reach the end of the Grand Corridor, which stopped at the entrance to the Council chambers. Dozens of turbolift shafts lined the now narrowed sides of the corridor. Mara strode over to one and pushed the call button; moments later, there was a soft chime from another shaft and the three Jedi boarded the turbolift.

When the turbolift stopped, Luke deferred to his wife, allowing her to exit first and lead the way. Despite all of the years that had elapsed since she had lived on Coruscant, she still seemed to know the twisting, convoluted corridors of Imperial Palace better than anyone Luke had ever met.

By the time they reached the offices of Fleet Command, Luke had lost count of how many left and right turns they had made.

"Master Skywalker," a gruff voice suddenly announced.

Luke turned to come face to face with a Bothan in an Admiral's uniform. "Admiral Kre'fey," he acknowledged. "How are you?"

The Bothan's ears twitched. "Long times of peace are terrible for those in the military," he replied flatly. "The Senate is thinking about downsizing the Fleet."

"Again?" Luke asked in surprise. It seemed as though a demobilization bill popped up every few years. The simple fact remained, however, that it took countless millions of ships to patrol the galaxy. Most of them were operated by local and sector governments and thus were not directly under command of the New Republic Defense Force. Even so, the Defense Force alone operated more ships than the Kuat Sector Fleet, which most armchair generals agreed was the largest of the sector fleets.

"What about that attack on Rhommamool three years ago?" Mara interjected.

"Brush conflict," Kre'fey dismissed the question. "The local command could have dealt with it, had they had recognized the problem and responded sooner." The Bothan swept his arm around. "But pardon my manners. Please, follow me to my office."

The path that Admiral Kre'fey took went around the strategy room, which was a large pit of computer consoles arranged in concentric semicircles around a holographic projector at the bottom. The projector was currently displaying a massive, holographic map of the galaxy that sat there, spinning sedately.

They entered Kre'fey's modest office and he closed the door behind them, gesturing at the chairs arranged in front of his desk. Mara eased herself into one of the chairs, and Luke noticed a slight grimace flicker across her face before it returned to normal.

"So," Kre'fey said as he took his own seat, "what brings you here?"

"I'm concerned about recent events in the Tingel arm," Luke replied. "In the past several months, we've seen scattered attacks on shipping throughout the area. Kyp Durron lost his entire squadron to a previously unknown alien force in the Helska system less than a month ago."

"I doubt that many in the Senate will be very concerned with the loss of his squadron," Kre'fey said, his ear twitching again. "His reckless leadership has not earned him many friends here on Coruscant."

Luke let his head drop. "I know. I haven't always approved of the tactics he uses. However, there is something going on, and I'm pretty sure it's tied to Helska. His apprentice is still missing on the fourth planet, but we do not have the resources to mount a search and rescue mission."

Kre'fey slowly nodded. "Unlike my cousin Borsk, I do trust Jedi intuition. I will let Dalonbian sector command know what you said. Ultimately, it is their decision. I can only step in if the issue proves to be too much for them to handle."

"Thank you, Admiral." Luke came to his feet and was about to shake Kre'fey's hand when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Kre'fey said.

The door clicked open and a somewhat nervous-looking young aide stepped in. "Admiral, you're needed in the situation room."

"Can it wait?"

"I'm afraid not, Sir."

Kre'fey coughed and came to his feet before turning to face the Jedi. "In that case, would you like to come see the situation room?"

"I would-" Anakin began before hastily checking his aunt and uncle's faces. Luke merely smiled in response to his nephew's eagerness. "I would love to."

This time, instead of merely passing by the situation room, they entered it and found that the holo view had been changed from the galaxy to one of Coruscant. In comparison to the glittering view of the planet from space, this view was clouded by a sea of glowing dots that hovered above the planet's surface.

"The bigger ones are ships," Anakin remarked after looking at the globe for a moment, "and the smaller ones are pieces of debris, right?"

"Yes," Kre'fey agreed before turning to the aide. "What happened?"

"Sir, a Dreadnaught dropped out of hyperspace in one of the approach lanes. It's not one of ours."

The Bothan's ears flattened. "Imperials?"

"No, that's the thing, Sir. They're broadcasting an Old Republic identification code."

"Then they must be spoofing it," Kre'fey concluded. "We've accounted for all of the _Katana_ fleet dreadnaughts, have we not?"

"We did, Sir. It's not one of them."

Kre'fey walked over to the massive holomap and looked at the marker for the new contact. "Have _Viscount_ move to intercept and in the meantime, keep trying to raise them. Whoever they are, I don't want them getting any ideas."

"Yes, Sir." A few moments later, the aide looked back up. "Channel open, Sir."

Luke followed Kre'fey over to the holoprojector, where a quarter-scale projection of a woman in an Old Republic naval uniform stood waiting.

"This is Commander Tel Kenor on _Ny'lith Boro_," she introduced herself, "requesting docking permissions."

Kre'fey cleared his throat. "Commander Kenor, this is Admiral Kre'fey of the New Republic Defense Force. I am not familiar with you or your ship. You are in Coruscant restricted space. State your business."

"Good to know I'm still at the right planet," Kenor began. _"_This is the _Ny'lith Boro_, _Outbound Flight _designation D-Six. We have diplomatic envoys aboard from the United Federation of Planets to see the Senate."

The Bothan opened his mouth to reply and then stopped. He turned to Luke, nostrils flaring. "Were you aware of this?"

Luke shook his head, still shocked by the sudden proclamation. "No."

Kre'fey hit the mute button on the projector controls and turned back to his aide. "Get me everything you have on _Outbound Flight_. I want to know who all the commanders were." He motioned for another aide to come over. "You, run the ship's registry number through the Rendili database, see if it matches what she says it is."

"Yes, Sir."

By the time they turned back to the holo and Kre'fey released the mute switch, a second figure had joined Commander Kenor on the table.

"Excuse me," the new arrival began. "Is there a problem?"

"There is," Kre'fey replied. "_Outbound Flight_ was reported to be destroyed by the Empire on its maiden voyage some sixty years ago."

Now it was the new arrivals' turn to be confused. "The Empire?" the man asked. "What Empire?"

Luke exchanged looks with Mara._ I think they're telling the truth._

"The Old Republic collapsed during the Clone Wars only a few years after _Outbound Flight_'s departure," Kre'fey began. "It became the Empire."

The man in the holo frowned. "You speak of the Empire as if it was in the past," he replied. "Who controls Coruscant now?"

"The New Republic," Kre'fey replied. "I am Admiral Traest Kre'fey, New Republic Defense Force First Fleet. Who might you be?"

"Jedi Master Dellen Coureran," the man replied. "May I speak with the Jedi Council?"

After exchanging another confused look with Mara, Luke stepped in front of the holocam. "I am Jedi Master Luke Skywalker," he said.

"You-" Dellen suddenly cut himself off. "_Skywalker_?"

Luke nodded.

"As in _Anakin Skywalker_?"

"He was my father," Luke replied.

There was a long pause. "Your _father_?"

"Yes. Why?"

The other Jedi Master opened and closed his mouth several times. "Then he broke the Code," Dellen finally said. "_There is no emotion, there is peace,_" he recited. "_A Jedi must not become attached lest it lead to emotion."_

Before Luke could reply, one of the aides ran up and Kre'fey hit the mute switch again.

"Here you are, Sir." The aide handed Kre'fey a datapad, and the Admiral wasted no time looking through it.

"Tel Kenor, age thirty-seven," Kre'fey muttered, glancing back at the hologram. "She hardly looks older now than she did in the records."

"Do you mind if I look?" Luke asked. The Bothan nodded, passing him the datapad. He tapped in a query, and a summary page appeared.

DELLEN COURERAN. HUMAN. BORN IN CORONET, ON CORELLIA, 6\15\73.

Not wanting to waste time, Luke quickly scanned through the early parts of the Jedi Master's history.

ASSISTANT TO MADAME JOCASTA NU AT JEDI ARCHIVES, 10\9\43. GRANTED RANK OF JEDI MASTER BY JEDI COUNCIL, 7\34\38. ONE OF SIX JEDI MASTERS ATTACHED TO OUTBOUND FLIGHT PROJECT 9\4\32 AT REQUEST OF JORUS C'BAOTH. NO RECORDS EXIST AFTER PROJECT DEPARTURE FROM YAGA MINOR, 4\1\31.

He skimmed through the rest of the record, looking for any images of the Jedi, but there were none.

"Is there a problem?" Dellen asked.

Luke released the mute switch. "No," he replied. "My apologies."

Admiral Kre'fey stepped back into view of the holocam. "I have cleared your approach with Coruscant Traffic Control. We will meet you at Docking Platform 587-Besh-93." He looked at the two figures for a long moment. "Welcome home."

* * *

. . .

* * *

As it turned out, Docking Platform 587's orbit over Coruscant was more suited for drydock use than as a mere docking platform. The platform itself was massive, easily outdoing even some of the heavier classes of Star Destroyer in terms of sheer volume.

Having said that, it would have been insane to put the docking platform up against even the Dreadnaught that was now connecting to it. The orbiting platform's defenses consisted entirely of point defense laser turrets. Its maneuvering thrusters were only sufficient to allow it to hold its geosynchronous position over the planet, and its shields (while strong) would never hold up to any semblance of concentrated fire.

Such thoughts were the last thing on Luke Skywalker's mind. Right now, a ship right out of spacer's legends was docking at port Besh-93. A ship from the legendary _Outbound Flight_. According to everything he knew, it shouldn't exist in this condition and yet all of his senses were telling him that it did.

As he watched, the skeptical parts of his mind warring with the optimistic parts, the port's airlock began to cycle, and the door irised open barely a minute later. A man with sandy blond hair, wearing well-kept robes similar in design to the one Obi-Wan had worn so many years before, and a woman in distinctly Old Republic military uniform stepped through the airlock as soon as it had finished opening. They were followed by a small group of humans and some humanoid aliens that Luke had never seen before.

He squinted at the man again. _Outbound Flight_ had been missing for some sixty years, yet the man in front of him, the Jedi he realized by the lightsaber hanging at his belt, looked younger than himself. The woman standing next to him looked even younger.

"Dellen Coureran," the man began, outstretching an arm in greeting.

Luke took the outstretched arm and shook it. "Luke Skywalker." A moment later, he realized that Dellen was examining him in the same way he'd studied Dellen a moment earlier.

"You _do_ look like Anakin," Dellen concluded a moment later. "Where is he? I would like to speak with him, and Master Kenobi, if possible."

Luke shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid that won't be possible," he replied. "My father and Master Kenobi both became one with the Force about thirty years ago."

"Then what about the Jedi Council?"

Again Luke shook his head. "The Jedi Council has not existed since... I was born, as near as we can tell. I trained under Master Kenobi and Master Yoda for several years before they passed on."

Dellen looked around the docking platform in surprise. "It seems that we've missed quite a bit," he finally remarked. "I suppose you can bring me up to speed?"

Luke shrugged. "I can give you an overview," he replied, "but if you want to read through everything, we'll have to go take a look at the Senate Library."

"Perhaps later," Dellen said. "Master Skywalker, this is Commander Tel Kenor," then he turned around to gesture at the closely bunched group of humans and aliens in strange, tight-fitting uniforms, "and this is the diplomatic team from the United Federation of Planets."

"Pleased to meet you," Luke replied, shaking a number of hands. "This is my wife Mara Jade-Skywalker, my nephew Anakin Solo, and this is Admiral Traest Kre'fey."

A shocked look passed over Dellen's face. "Your wife? Nephew?" His eyes went back and forth between the Jedi before stopping on Mara, or more particularly, the bulge in her abdomen. "And... ah... I suppose congratulations are in order."

"Thank you," Mara replied.

Luke scratched his head momentarily. "I never did get the chance to ask you when we were on the holo," he began, "but what did you mean about my father breaking the Code?"

Dellen gave Luke an even more incredulous stare. "You _are_ familiar with the Jedi Code, I hope?"

When Luke nodded, Dellen continued.

"Could you recite it for me?"

Luke took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began.

"Emotion, yet peace.

"Ignorance, yet knowledge.

"Passion, yet serenity.

"Chaos, yet harmony.

"Death, yet the Force."

There was silence for several moments after Luke finished, as Dellen appeared to attempt to come to grips with himself. "That's the old version, not the Code of Master Odan-Urr," he finally said. "Why do you use that version?"

Luke shrugged. "Tionne-our historian-and I spent months going through the Jedi Archives. We chose this because it was most consistent with what I had learned from Master Yoda and Master Kenobi."

"Master Yoda was always strict about using Master Odan-Urr's version," Dellen replied. "He would always warn the Padawans of the consequences of allowing themselves to become overwhelmed by emotions."

A cough next to them caused both Jedi to turn and look at a slightly annoyed Bothan.

"While this has been a fascinating discussion of Jedi philosophy," Kre'fey said bluntly, "we have more business to attend to. I believe your guests have requested the audience of the Senate?"

Dellen nodded and turned to Luke. "I would like to continue this afterward, if you don't mind."

"Of course."

Then the Jedi turned to the Federation diplomats. At the front of the group stood a balding, middle-aged man and a tall, graying near-human with pointed ears. The bald man was dressed in a red, almost skin-tight uniform while the near-human wore charcoal robes. "Allow me to introduce the Federation's representatives, Ambassador Spock and Captain Jean-Luc Picard."

Luke and Kre'fey shook hands with the two, and then Kre'fey focused on Picard. "You are a military man, I presume?"

Picard nodded. "USS _Enterprise_, Federation Starfleet."

"I see." Kre'fey's ears twitched in thought. "Why did you not bring your ship here?"

"Our warp drive is much slower than _Outbound Flight_'s hyperdrive. It would have taken us many years to cover the same distance."

Kre'fey nodded. "Understandable. Now, please follow me. There is a shuttle waiting for us. I already made arrangements with the Senate External Relations Committee to see you."

"We appreciate your hospitality," Spock replied.

* * *

. . .

* * *

Dellen noted with wry amusement that the application process for a member government had not changed much between the Republic and the New Republic. The senators in the External Relations committee had rushed them through which forms they would need to fill out, set up appointments with the various New Republic agencies they would need to file said forms with, and generally pushed them out the door as quickly as possible.

That was in stark contrast to the three hour wait in the anteroom of the committee chambers. Another sign that the finest traditions of Republican bureaucracy were still alive and well was the fact that the next available Senate membership hearing was a week away.

"So," Dellen said to Luke, "continuing our conversation from earlier, if you don't use the Jedi Temple any more, where do you train the Jedi?"

"We have a Praxeum located on Yavin IV, in the old Massassi Great Temple."

Dellen frowned. "Yavin IV? The last time the Jedi were there was to destroy Exar Kun."

"Well, if that was their goal then they did a pretty poor job of it," Luke said with the barest hint of amusement. "Exar Kun nearly killed me when I first set up the Praxeum."

"I always had wondered about that," Dellen remarked. "It seems the Jedi of that era assumed that a simple orbital bombardment would be enough to stop a Sith Lord."

"Evidently not. From what one of my students told me, Kun transferred his essence into the Great Temple itself. The building withstood their bombardment, and when I brought my first Jedi trainees there, he began twisting their minds to the dark side."

"Impressive, for a Sith," Dellen remarked. "How did you manage to destroy him, anyway?"

"I had some help from the trainees and my niece and nephew," Luke explained.

"Ah." There was a long pause while Dellen contemplated what he had been told. "Now, about the Jedi Council. How do you govern if there is no Council?"

"Up until about five years ago, there were too few Jedi Knights to warrant a Council," Luke replied. "We've discussed setting it up, but frankly I have no idea where to begin. Or how I can get some of the Jedi to accept its authority."

"That is perhaps the most worrying issue I see," Dellen replied. "Your Jedi have been trained with, from what I can tell, a lack of respect for central authorities. Now," he held his hand up, "I am not necessarily saying that is a bad thing. From what I've learned so far browsing through the archives, blind obedience was the downfall of the Order-of my Order."

"It has been quite a sticking point with the Senate," Luke said. "They feel that as long as I lead the Jedi, if anything were to happen the entire Order could fall into chaos. I'm afraid they might be right."

"Well," Dellen mused, "it seems there are now seven Jedi Masters."

"Eight," Luke corrected. "Master Ikrit has been working with our youngest trainees at the Academy for the last five years."

"Which means that you only need to appoint four more Jedi Masters to have enough seats to form the Council," Dellen finished.

Luke's expression narrowed. "If only I could do that without being accused of playing favorites."

Dellen considered the statement. "I suppose, since we have eight Jedi Masters, that we could convene and select the remaining four as a group." He shook his head. "It's funny. I spent most of my time in the Temple working in the Archives, but never would I have imagined that Master C'baoth's little mission would wind up being the largest surviving group of Jedi Masters in the Order."

"Speaking of C'baoth," Luke paused thoughtfully to scratch his chin, "how do you feel about his administration of Outbound Flight?"

"Successful, I suppose," Dellen replied after a moment. "Considering that we were very nearly destroyed before we had even left the galaxy, I think we can all count ourselves lucky to be alive. Why do you ask?"

"Let's just say I had a run-in with an insane dark Jedi who believed he was Jorus C'baoth," Luke surmised. "about twenty-five years ago."

Dellen frowned. "But he wasn't C'baoth."

"Yes. And no." Luke said. "He was C'baoth's clone."

He nodded, seeing where Luke's train of thought was retaking him. "And you are concerned about the stability of the real C'baoth."

"Yes."

The Jedi licked his lips as he considered the implied question. "Master C'baoth has never been the most... shall we say, conventional Jedi in the Order."

"His biographical entries in the Senate database implied as much," Luke agreed. "I suppose that was one reason why Palpatine wanted to get rid of him. Any Jedi who was not blindly obedient to the Order's way of thinking..."

"Would be a severe threat to his push for power," Dellen finished. "That is food for thought. But it seems that we're fortunate in that the Sith appear to be truly finished with the death of both master and apprentice."

"That hasn't stopped anyone from trying to take their place," Luke said carefully, "including Palpatine himself."

"Sounds like quite an interesting story," Dellen said. "You mentioned the Senate library earlier. I don't suppose you could show me where that is so I can catch up?"


	25. Twenty Four

_**24**_

Whatever the usual perception of outer space was, Cathi was sure it wasn't supposed to look like the inside of a power coupling. Energy discharges arced through space and tendrils of energetic plasma swirled and danced as if alive. "Is it usually this bad?"

"There's a reason why we call it the Badlands," Jon replied from the co-pilot's chair.

She spun the ship between two large tendrils of plasma that were threatening to collide in front of it. As she did so, one of the panel alarms began flashing.

"What's that?" Jon asked.

"Grav-well alarm," she snapped back in between maneuvers. "Means we can't jump to hyperspace. Not that I would even think of trying in this mess. How far is it to where we're going, anyway?"

"This is just the outer shock front," Jon replied. "It takes a few days to cross and then we can go to warp again. Our base is about four light-years inside."

"You've got to be kidding," Cathi muttered. "That could take us longer than it took just to get here."

Jon nodded. "The Badlands are very difficult to navigate. The Cardassians lost at least a dozen warships just to the plasma storms."

"You sure know the right words to keep people calm," she deadpanned.

"Yeah, he's a regular morale officer," Marina added from the seat behind Cathi, with a hint of teasing in her voice. "Aren't you, Jon?"

"Shut up and let Cathi fly."

Without taking her eyes off the hyperactive nebula outside, Cathi replied. "Don't worry about me. Conversation's good. Keeps me alert."

The ship dove through a virtual wall of charged particles and plasma, which sparked off the shields in what would have been a fantastic light show under normal circumstances. Stealing a glance at the shield indicators, she was relieved to find they were still holding at normal levels.

"So, I'm curious. What is this place, anyway? Some sort of supernova remnant?"

"It's... ah..." Jon paused. "Well, I'm no astrophysicist, so I'll defer to the Cardassian. It's in his backyard after all."

"You are correct," Delak said. "It happened about seven hundred years ago. The radiation devastated Cardassia, causing near total collapse of our government and sending the planet into a civil war that lasted over two hundred years."

"That's terrible," Cathi replied. "So your planet didn't have any sort of shield in place?"

The look that Delak threw at Cathi was one of total and utter disbelief. "A shield that covers an entire planet? That's impossible, even for the Federation or Dominion." He frowned briefly. "Wait. Is there such a thing where you are from?"

"Well..." Cathi paused, suddenly wishing she had thought of the implications before she blurted the question out. "Yes, but only the more affluent planets can afford them."

"Your home sounds like a dangerous place," Silar observed.

Cathi shrugged. "Not really," she replied. "I mean, we did have a civil war around thirty years ago, and there are always pirates here and there to watch out for, but as long as you're alert and prepared you should be fine."

"Isn't that the truth," Jon muttered.

* * *

. . .

* * *

During the week-long wait for the Senate hearing, Anakin had taken every opportunity to pick the brain of the Old Republic Jedi Master that had, practically speaking, returned from the dead. Better yet, Master Dellen had worked in the Jedi Archives with Madame Jocasta Nu and had no small amount of Old Republic history committed to memory. Compared to the out-of-date archives his uncle Luke had pulled from the _Chu'unthor_, Dellen's knowledge dated back to only a few years before the fall of the Old Republic.

"So once an initiate passed his trials, he would wait to be selected by a Jedi Master, and then he would become his Padawan apprentice?"

"That's right," Dellen replied.

Anakin propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. "Can you tell me more about what it meant to be a Padawan?"

"Well," Dellen said slowly, "a Padawan learner was expected to always stay with his Master, so the Master could pass on as much of his life's knowledge about the Force and the universe as possible. Besides learning, a Padawan's duties also included building their first lightsaber once they were deemed ready, and developing and refining their ability to use the Force for more than simple manipulation."

"What do you mean by that?"

The Jedi Master took a sip of water. "As I'm sure you are aware, being a Jedi is far more than just knowing how to use a lightsaber. We must be in touch with the Force at all times. If we are, then we gain the ability to detect far more than what our eyes can see, or what our ears can hear, or what we can feel. So one of the duties of a Master is to work with his Padawan and strengthen the connection he has with the Force."

"That sounds very... specific," Anakin remarked. "But the Force is still more than just sensing or manipulating."

"You are correct," Dellen said with a smile. "And that is why each Master has much freedom in instructing his Padawan in the ways of the Force. It would be foolish to restrict that. I believe that was one of the great mistakes the Council made toward the end; they tried to place too much emphasis on certain things, which made us predictable."

There was a knock on the door and both Jedi looked up to see Mara and Luke. "It's time," Luke said.

Several minutes and umpteen security checks later, the four Jedi and the Federation group walked into a waiting area near the central podium of the Senate rotunda. Anakin could only remember the interior of the building changing once, and he had been so young at that time that he barely remembered what it used to look like. Still, he found it impressive. Thousands of delegation booths spiraled up from the bottom of the concave chamber.

"I was actually expecting it to be larger," Dellen remarked as they walked down the steps toward their assigned booth. "How many seats does the Senate have now?"

"The last time I checked, it was about twelve hundred," Luke replied.

Dellen clicked his tongue softly. "That's not even a quarter of the Senate I remembered..."

"I know," Luke said softly. "Around two thousand Senators signed a petition protesting Palpatine's power grab after the Clone Wars. They were ignored."

"That many?" Dellen asked in surprise. "When we left, his ratings were at an all-time high."

"Would you expect anything less of a Sith Lord?"

Dellen nodded guiltily. "And we were duped just as much as the politicians. If I had known that Palpatine was behind the attack that nearly killed all of us..."

"What's important is that despite all that, the mission succeeded," Luke said. "And that's why we're here today."

"True," Dellen agreed.

At the dais ahead of them, Chief of State Borsk Fey'lya stood in silence, listening to a representative of a multi-world farming consortium drone on about how agricultural tariffs in the mid-Rim sectors were killing business.

When the speaker finished, Fey'lya cleared his throat. "The Senate will now recognize the chairman of the Senate Agriculture Committee."

After the formalities were finished, the senator launched into an assessment of tariff structures. Anakin tuned him out after only a few minutes had passed, opting instead to mentally calculate the liquid volume of the Senate chambers. By the time the speaker had finished, he had concluded that the rotunda could hold enough water to supply the entire planet's needs for about a minute.

_Not that anybody would drink it, that is. The senators would make it taste too bitter._

"... and so," Fey'lya was saying as Anakin snapped back to attention, "it is my distinct pleasure to welcome into this chamber a man who last set foot here sixty years ago, Jedi Master Dellen Coureran."

There were scattered attempts at applause and, to Anakin's surprise, more than a few jeering cries. _What was wrong with the Senate, that they would openly ridicule a Jedi?_

They walked up to the dais together, where Dellen stepped forward to the front of the podium.

"Thank you, President Fey'lya." He looked around the chamber as his voice echoed from the cavernous walls. "Esteemed representatives and honored guests, as some of you may no doubt know already, exactly sixty years ago this month a ship specially commissioned by the Republic left the shipyards of Yaga Minor on a historic voyage."

The chamber was filled with murmurs as some delegations tried to figure out what the Jedi Master was talking about.

"I am speaking of the Outbound Flight project, which departed with ten thousand Republic colonists and two thousand Republic Navy crewmen aboard six Dreadnaught cruisers. Never in the past thousand years of galactic history was anything so ambitious ever attempted."

The murmuring grew louder as Dellen continued. "As the Senate's history databanks will no doubt tell you, it was ambushed one week later in the Unknown Regions and has been presumed destroyed to this day."

"Where are you going with this?" a heckler shouted from the other side of the chamber.

Ignoring the question, Dellen continued. "I am pleased to report that rumors of our demise have been greatly exaggerated, and that the Project has succeeded beyond our wildest expectations."

He reached down and activated the holoprojector controls. Above the central podium, a giant representation of a barred spiral galaxy slowly began to spin about its axis, and there was a quiet gasp from the Senate. "Through a fortunate chance, Outbound Flight survived. Although we never made it to our intended destination, we reached a galaxy similar in size to our own. Most significantly, we have contacted a predominantly human government."

The murmuring in the chamber exploded into chatter, and Fey'lya had to pound his gavel to silence it. On the other side, the human representative of the Sluis Van sector stood up.

"Your question, Senator?" Fey'lya asked.

"Forgive me, Master Coureran," the senator began, "but is it not a well-established fact that there is a hyperspace disturbance surrounding the galaxy that makes travel in or out impossible?"

"I would say the simple fact that I am standing here in front of you, today, is enough to disprove that foolish notion," Dellen replied calmly. "I would also like to bring your attention to the Rishi Maze, which I believe we can all agree lies not within our own galactic plane, but is rather a dwarf satellite galaxy of ours. Were there such a barrier, travel to the Rishi Maze would be impossible." He paused for effect. "Historically speaking, the hyperspace disturbance hypothesis was accepted by the public and the Senate without any basis in reality. It was a convenient excuse for us to turn our focus inward and forget our drive to explore the stars beyond."

The silence in the chamber after Dellen had finished was almost deafening. Finally, Fey'lya spoke up. "Would you care to add anything, Senator?" The senator shook his head. "Are there any other questions for Master Coureran?"

"How is it possible for there to be humans in a galaxy so far away?" another senator asked.

Dellen smiled. "I believe I just finished explaining that the so-called Great Hyperspace Barrier does not exist. There are any number of ways that humans could have reached another galaxy in the past."

"But you said just a few minutes ago," the senator protested, "that no project like Outbound Flight has happened before."

"You twist my words, Senator," Dellen replied. "I said that no project like Outbound Flight has happened in the _last thousand years of known Republic history_. Mind you, we have been exploring space for _at least_ the last hundred thousand years." He paused for dramatic effect. "In fact, I would say it's even possible that humans came from their galaxy!"

"That's preposterous!" the Senator shouted. "We _know_ that the human race originated right here on Coruscant."

Dellen took some time to consider the question. "While it is commonly _assumed_ by many that humans originated here," he said calmly, "there are at least three hundred planets that lay claim to human origins in this galaxy, not least of which is Coruscant. And in the long course of civilization here, any evidence to corroborate those claims has either been destroyed or buried beneath successive layers of growth. In short, Senator, that question is better left for anthropologists."

Dellen looked about the chamber again, which was still buzzing with voices. He raised his voice just enough to be heard over them. "But I have not come before you to give you a history lesson, historian though I may be. I bring to you an opportunity. We have successfully negotiated with this government for the rights to start a colony. This will be the first Republic colony to be founded outside the known galaxy since the discovery of the Rishi Maze."

The Sluis Van senator spoke up again. "I hope you pardon my impertinence, Jedi," he said, "but speaking as the representative of over six thousand systems I must say the founding of one new colony is distinctly unimpressive."

"In galactic terms, I admit it is barely a footnote," Dellen replied. "However, the local government, the United Federation of Planets, wishes to apply for membership. This is where the opportunity lies."

"To put it bluntly, this Senate is not in the habit of granting membership to anybody that just walks into this chamber," the Senator replied. "There are eligibility requirements that must first be met. Surveys must be conducted, and observers will have to monitor their political processes for a set time period before membership is even considered."

"And that is a fact that I am well aware of," Dellen replied. "Their representatives have filled out forms for no less than thirty-seven departments in the past week."

"I suppose then you are asking us to grease the rails, so to speak?"

"There is a certain amount of urgency to their request. I believe that their representatives could explain the situation better than I."

There was a resigned pause, and then Fey'lya's voice boomed out. "The Senate will now recognize Ambassadors Spock and Picard from the United Federation of Planets."

Spock stepped forward without missing a beat. "Esteemed representatives and honored guests," he said, imitating Dellen's opening, "we are deeply honored to be standing here in front of this august body. Like my colleagues, I initially had my doubts when I heard that we had made contact with a galaxy-spanning Republic. Yet, standing here today, I am left speechless at the millions of species and countless sentient beings that have chosen to work together toward a common goal.

He paused to take a breath. "While some worlds such as my home planet of Vulcan have been traveling space for thousands of years, the Federation has only existed for slightly more than two hundred of them. Together we have faced many challenges and emerged stronger for the experience."

As they looked around the chamber, it remained in silent attention.

"Despite that, the Federation now faces a test that it may not pass alone. A power that calls itself the Dominion decided several years ago that it wanted our resources. They have taken many worlds, enslaved their people, and killed thousands of our best Starfleet crews. We have fought back at every turn, but it has not been enough."

After a long period of silence interrupted only by the murmuring of the Senate rotunda, Anakin inwardly sighed when he saw the Sluis Van delegation pod highlighted.

"Forgive me, Ambassador Spock," the senator began, "but are you applying for membership or begging us to come save you from your troubles? Because if it is the latter, I hope you do not expect us to come charging in like some fabled cavalry. We have enough to worry about without waging wars on behalf of governments in other galaxies."

"Your hesitation to intervene in these matters is logical," Spock replied without missing a beat, "as we have faced the same sort of decision in the past. However, I must ask you to consider the fact that by the time all of the surveys are taken and political processes observed, there may not even be a Federation left."

On the small holoprojector at the front of the delegate pod, the Senator crossed his arms. "Then what would you have us do?"

"It is my understanding that there is a large military-industrial complex that services your armed forces. We still have manpower, but are sorely lacking in production capacity. We will only need the means to defend ourselves and training to use the equipment."

"I see." The senator scratched his chin thoughtfully. "That is an entirely different question, then. Assuming that your government passes the tests required for us to export arms to you, the only question that will remain is: What companies will be willing to take the risk of selling ships and weapons to an unknown factor?"

"Senator, Ambassador," a new yet vaguely familiar voice interrupted, "the Corellian Engineering representative has informed me that they are willing to provide provisional financing. How many ships do you expect you will be need, and what is your timeframe for delivery?"

"Mr. President," the Senator replied, "I must protest the interruption by Senator Sal-Solo. The United Federation of Planets has not yet been recognized by the Senate, much less approved for arms exports by the Security Council!"

_Sal-Solo_? Anakin wondered. _It couldn't be._

"Regretfully, Senator Sal-Solo," Fey'lya said firmly, "I must agree with Sluis Van. Trade is the backbone of prosperity and we must take the time to ensure the correct decisions are made. Master Coureran, have the Federation representatives submitted the forms for formal recognition of an independent power to the External Affairs Committee?"

"They have, Mr. President."

"Has the Committee reviewed the forms in question?"

"They have, Mr. President."

Fey'lya turned back to the podium. "In that case, would the chair of the Committee care to state his opinion on the standing request for formal recognition of the United Federation of Planets?"

"The vote was 28-7 in favor of recognition," the chair stated.

"Do any of the seated Senators have any objection to the findings of the Committee?"

While Fey'lya waited for a decision, Anakin swept his gaze around the chamber in search of the Corellian delegate booth.

"In that case, the Committee's decision stands. The Senate will formally recognize the United Federation of Planets as an independent foreign nation."

There was a brief round of weak applause.

"The Security Council will hold a hearing on the Federation tomorrow at 1300," Fey'lya declared with a bang of his gavel. "This Senate session is hereby adjourned. Thank you all."

* * *

. . .

* * *

A short time later found the Jedi walking with the Federation diplomats through the grand halls of the Senate rotunda.

"I suppose," Anakin ventured carefully, "as far as the Senate is concerned, that was a productive day."

The remark earned him a snort from Mara. "At least they set up another hearing for us. I remember there were times where the Imperial Senate would bicker and debate an issue all day and still not get anywhere."

"I'm sorry," Picard interjected, "did you say _Imperial_ Senate? I thought this was a Republic."

Luke let out a tired laugh. "It's a long story. I went over most of the history with Master Dellen. What do you know about the Old Republic?"

"If by Old Republic, you mean the 'Republic of legend' that Master C'baoth was fond of reminiscing about, I believe I know the basics," Picard replied.

"Good," Luke said with a smile. "Then I can skip all the boring details. Around seventy or eighty years ago, a politician from one of the old, aristocratic worlds started his rise to power, eventually becoming Chancellor."

"That would be the one who authorized the Outbound Flight, correct? Chancellor Palpatine, I believe?"

Luke nodded. "However, what nobody realized at the time was that Palpatine had been trained in the ways of the Sith, who were the ancient enemies of the Jedi. Palpatine manipulated the system to start a series of wars that devastated the galaxy."

"The Clone Wars?" Picard asked.

"Yes. He used the conflict to gather more power for himself and finally had the Senate proclaim him as the Emperor. As the unquestioned ruler of the galaxy, he almost completely destroyed the Jedi Order and removed most of the safeguards on freedom in the galaxy. Slavery of non-human species was not just ignored, it was actively encouraged."

Picard looked thoughtful for a moment. "There are many parallels between that and our own history," he finally said. "One of Earth's greatest civilizations of antiquity, around 2,500 years ago, was the Roman Republic. It was ruled by a Senate of the people for several hundred years.

He took a breath. "Eventually it became threatened by war, and one of the generals in that war was named Julius Caesar. Caesar saved the Republic, and in turn was granted great political power - so much so, in fact, that his name became the title of his successors."

"He didn't sound too bad," Luke remarked.

"Compared to many of his contemporaries, no," Picard said. "However, some of his successors let the power go to their heads."

Luke nodded. "That's a common theme here as well."

"I'm sure," Picard replied. "We have a saying: power corrupts, but absolute power corrupts absolutely. I suppose I would not be wrong to assume that these Sith were all seekers of power?"

"They were," Luke said. "In fact, most of the galaxy's largest wars can be traced back to the Sith."

"They sound like a very dangerous enemy," Picard mused. "Do they still exist?"

Luke shook his head. "As far as we can tell, no. I suppose we were fortunate that while Palpatine himself was one of the strongest, most powerful Sith Lords in history, he was also one of the greediest. He gathered up large amounts of Sith knowledge and destroyed any copies. We've managed to recover a little bit that he left behind, but most of it was destroyed with him."

"If he was as powerful as you say," Picard said, "how was he defeated?"

Luke took a deep breath. "By my father, Anakin Skywalker."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "It seems, Master Skywalker, that you come from a powerful family. Yet you do not show it."

"My father was corrupted by Palpatine as a young Jedi Knight," Luke explained, his tone dropping. "He became known as Darth Vader, and helped destroy what was left of the Jedi Order."

"Fascinating," Spock remarked. "How did he come to defeat the Emperor?"

"I was part of the Rebellion - that is, the alliance to restore the Republic," Luke continued. "It was very much an uphill battle, and the Emperor set a trap for us at the end. As the last Jedi, or so I thought at the time, I went alone to confront Vader and the Emperor.

He took another deep breath. "I nearly failed. But I knew that deep inside, Vader was still Anakin Skywalker." Luke reached up and ran a hand along his face. "I look older than I should now because of how the Emperor tortured me. Something snapped inside Anakin when he saw that, because he picked up the Emperor and threw him to his death."

"Based on your earlier remarks concerning your father," Spock said, "I would infer that was the cause of your father's death."

"The Emperor fried his suit's life support systems," Luke replied quietly. "He died a short time later."

They rounded a corner in the building and nearly ran into the Corellian delegation. Anakin paused to look twice at the man in the center of the group who, were it not for a few extra pounds and white hair, could have passed for his father's twin. But his face was permanently etched into Anakin's memory. He had, after all, been the one who had captured and used Anakin and his siblings as bargaining chips only a decade earlier.

"Senator Sal-Solo," Mara said icily. "What an unexpected pleasure it is to meet you again."

"Miss Jade," Thrackan Sal-Solo said with a small bow. "Likewise."

Mara's eyes narrowed. "It's Mrs. Jade-Skywalker now," she replied. "But of course you wouldn't know that. You were locked away in a Corellian prison when we got married."

Ignoring the jab, Thrackan's eyes fell down to her belly. "I see you have been quite busy in the meantime. I suppose congratulations are in order. When is the baby due?"

"Why?" Mara snapped. "Do you plan on kidnapping him too?"

Thrackan mimed stabbing himself. "You wound me, Mrs. Jade-Skywalker. You should know full well that I meant no harm to the children all those years ago. But I had my back up against the wall."

"That reminds me," Mara said. "Just how did you go from being a convicted criminal in a Saccorian prison to _Senator of Corellia_ in two years?"

"Full pardon from the Governor-General of Corellia, in exchange for helping unlock Centerpoint Station," Thrackan replied. "Along with popular support. Speaking of pardons, can we put the past behind us right now? This is a historic moment for not only our galaxy. I wanted to offer my services in the interest of better relations between the Republic and the Federation."

"Cut the crap, Thrackan," Mara shot back. "We both know that the only reason you're in this is because of the money that this contract could be worth to CEC."

"Be that as it may," Thrackan said with feigned patience, "I don't see the representatives from Kuat or Rendili offering to throw their hats in the ring. Since Fey'lya has basically said the Navy will not assist, what other choice does the Federation have?"

"He has a point, Mara," Luke remarked quietly. "As... distasteful as we may find it to work with Sal-Solo, we don't have many other options."

"The devil you know," Picard said.

"What?" Both Jedi turned to look at him.

"Another old Earth saying," the captain explained. "It's better to go with the devil you know than the one you don't."

"I appreciate the comparison," Thrackan said irritably, "but in all seriousness, I believe it would be better if we could all meet in my office. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but we're blocking the corridor."

* * *

. . .

* * *

As she usually did after the end of a long day at the Senate, Viqi Shesh closed and locked the door to her office. Her staff had already gone home, leaving her alone in the dark room, which was only dimly lit from the light of the Coruscant traffic in the distance.

With a sigh, she sank back in the comfortable chair behind her heavy wooden desk. "Thrackan," she muttered. "You kriffing idiot, what have you gotten us into?"

The KDY representative (who also happened to be a cousin of hers, some three times removed) had already asked her if they should match the Corellian offer of provisional financing. Provisional financing, of course, basically meant loaning ships and equipment in the hope that a customer would be able to come up with payment once the trial period ran out. Customers were always heavily screened prior to being offered such financing, but in this case the customer was in a far-away galaxy, with no basis for the financial wizards to work from. The Federation was, quite frankly, a big fat unknown to her.

Worse yet, her corporate spies had already reported that Rendili was considering the same offer. Which meant that if Kuat did not move, there was a fair chance they would have an uphill battle for sales assuming the Federation panned out.

She put her face in her hands, leaning against the desk for a moment. Then she opened a drawer and pulled out a small glass and a half-empty bottle of strong Kuati brandy, and poured herself a glass.

"Here's to lunatics like you," she said as she raised the glass, before downing it in one gulp. "Asshole."

Several glasses later, she put the bottle back in its place, and pushed several spots on the desk in succession. There was a soft click, and a hidden door opened from which she removed a leathery ball.

After placing it on the desk, she started stroking its center ridge, and the creature unfolded. As many times as she had seen it invert itself, she still found the process creepy and disturbing.

The flat, featureless surface of the villip then morphed into the hideous face of her contact. Why they chose to mutilate themselves so, she had no idea. But she had seen a first-hand demonstration of their power, and they had promised her the safety and security of Kuat in exchange for her assistance. She was doing the galaxy a favor anyway, she told herself; civilian casualties could be minimized with the right intel.

"Speak, Viqi Shesh," the villip intoned.

"I have word of some new developments in the Senate," she began. "I believe you will find this very interesting."


	26. Twenty Five

_**25**_

Captain Yates paced across the bridge deck of _Diversion_ in complete frustration at the current situation and his total lack of ability to _do_ anything about it. It was not for lack of trying on his or the crew's part, however. For the past three days, _Diversion_'s engineering staff had been trying to repair a broken hyperdrive with no success so far.

_I should have seen this coming_, Yates mused. _Jumping around in an uncharted galaxy, relying on starmaps of dubious quality made by local civilizations. How could that possibly go wrong?_

Yet go wrong it had. Horribly so, in their case. The Comm-Scan analysts had found some sort of data recorder among the wreckage and junk that they had bartered for in the Ocampa system. The recorder, interestingly enough, had come from a Federation ship named _Val Jean_. What their connection was to Outbound Flight and _Voyager_, of course, Yates had no idea. But it was a lead, however tenuous it might be.

So, after several weeks of analysis, they had managed to deciper navigational data contained on the recorder. After cross-referencing it with starmaps taken from the Kazon and Hirogen, his navigators had concluded that the most likely position of this Federation was on the other side of the galaxy. To make matters worse, they had realized that the Ocampa system was actually _farther away_ from the Federation than the wormhole system they had started in!

When faced with a choice of reporting back to the Commodore that no, while they had not found Outbound Flight they did have a good lead on where it was, or actually following that lead even if it meant navigating blindly across the alien galaxy, Yates had immediately gone for the latter option. It was a snap decision he was now regretting, but with any luck his engineers could rig up something that could get his beloved ship back home. At least they were still in one piece.

"Captain?" a voice inquired from the Comm-Scan station.

Yates continued for a few paces, still lost in thought.

"Captain? I'm picking up some strange readings on the scanners," the voice continued.

The captain paused. "Define strange, Ensign."

"Sensor ghosts, Sir. Navigation reported a number of gravity wells surrounding us. When I try to run a passive sensor focus on their position, it always comes up negative."

Having walked over while the ensign was talking, Yates bent over to look at the readouts. "Can you highlight them on the tactical display?"

"At once, Sir."

The tactical display flared to life on the holoprojector, with a wireframe representation of _Diversion_ holding position in the middle of emptiness. As he stared at the display, Yates could see several points around _Diversion_ fade in and out, and suddenly a cold knot developed in his gut.

"Sound general quarters," he snapped out the order to the crew chief. "Comm-Scan, switch to active scan mode. I want those 'ghosts' lit up like a Life Day tree."

The general quarters klaxon began blaring as the crew chief began his announcement.

"Active scan results are negative," the Comm-Scan tech announced with a resigned tone. "Hang on... We're picking up some low-power subspace carriers. I can use that..."

The map suddenly lit up with over a dozen amber markers.

"Gunnery," Yates spun around, "can you get me targeting solutions on the contacts?"

"Tracking system will not maintain target lock, Sir," the gunnery officer reported back.

"Find a solution," Yates snapped back. "Whatever they are, we have to be able to fight back if they are hostile."

"Target lock-"

"Contacts are-"

The gunnery officer and Comm-Scan tech spoke over each other, paused, and then the Comm-Scan tech continued.

"Sir, the contacts just resolved. Thirteen ships, unknown armaments, about one kilometer long each. They must have used some sort of cloaking device."

Captain Yates grimaced as an invisible hand gripped his stomach and _twisted_. Here they were, stranded without hyperdrive and surrounded by unknown, apparently aggressive ships.

"Gunnery, your report?" he asked.

"Targeting solutions confirmed. Awaiting your command."

"Incoming transmission," the Comm-Scan tech reported a heartbeat later. "Language is not Basic. Waiting for translation..."

"Send our standard query in the meantime," Yates replied. _At least that might keep them guessing instead of shooting at us._

"Query sent. Sir, the translation system is saying there is insufficient data to proceed."

"Any more transmissions from any of the ships?"

The tech frowned and turned back to his monitor. "The low-power subspace carriers are still active, but they appear to be encrypted."

"Get Cryptanalysis working on it immediately."

"Yes, Sir."

Several more tense minutes passed as _Diversion_ and the unknown ships held their positions, motionless relative to each other.

"They've opened a channel," the tech finally reported. "Video and audio."

"Put it on the holo," Yates replied.

The communication holo formed a screen as before to reveal another humanoid figure with straight-trimmed black hair, a deeply furrowed forehead and pointed ears.

"What is it with the bumpy foreheads here?" Yates muttered under his breath.

"You infringe territory of Romulan Empire," he began in strangely accented Basic. "Make time and die. Surrender. Your base or belonging is us."

"Romulan Commander," Yates replied in the most proper Basic he could muster under the circumstances, "we were unaware of your government's claim to this region of space and apologize for the misunderstanding."

There was pregnant silence for several long moments as the Romulan muted his end of the link.

"Unknown base," the Romulan began again with a slightly better Basic accent, "surrender and prepare to board. Or choose die."

Yates resisted the urge to palm his face at the mistranslation. Whoever these Romulans were, they weren't about to take no for an answer. Without the hyperdrive, _Diversion_ was a sitting duck. So how could he get his ship-and crew-out of this one?

It took several seconds for him to come up with what he hoped was a believable story.

"Romulan Commander, this is Captain Yates of the Imperial diplomatic ship _Diversion_. We have traveled from the far side of the galaxy to ask for an audience with your Emperor."

"We do not recognize diplomatic immunity," the Romulan responded a short time later. "Lower your weapons and surrender."

"If you take action against us, we _will_ defend ourselves," Yates warned. "We only wish to speak to a representative of your government."

"Your ship is outnumbered and outmatched," the Romulan replied. "Surrender or we will open fire."

"I would be careful in your position, Romulan," he said in a flat monotone. "Have you heard of a race called the Kazon? They told us the same thing and they also had numerical superiority. Yet we are here, not them."

The Romulan snorted. "Do not think your thinly veiled threat will intimidate us."

"If you prefer," Yates shot back, "I could arrange a live fire demonstration. Would you care to volunteer a target?"

* * *

. . .

* * *

"They are either crazy, brave, suicidal or stupid. Quite possibly all of the above," Subcommander Ro'cena remarked off-screen once she was sure the channel was muted. "I would suggest we act with caution. They may be human, but they do not act or look like the cowards of the Federation."

"Subcommander, have we been able to get a good scan of their vessel yet?"

"No, Commander," Ro'cena replied. "Their hull is blocking most of our scans. However, from our visual survey it appears that there are at least 100 small turrets spread across the ship."

Commander T'laro shook his head. "It would seem that they are lying about being a diplomatic ship. I also doubt their story about being from the other side of the galaxy. It would take at least sixty years at warp."

"Their ship does not match any known designs, Commander," Ro'cena pointed out. "And it is very possible they could have used a wormhole to get here. But if they are from the far side of the galaxy, why did they not mention the Dominion or Borg?"

"This does not make sense," T'laro agreed. "Open a channel to High Command."

. . .

Yates watched with a mixture of amusement and trepidation as the channel changed to a screen with the symbol of some sort of double-headed bird. The alien commander was likely going to talk to a superior due to the apparent outside context problem that _Diversion_ represented.

_No shots fired yet at least_, he mused.

While he had been conversing with the Romulan commander, his Comm-Scan crew had been analyzing the alien ships. One of them handed him a datapad with the written analysis, and he began paging through it while he waited.

The first part of the report dealt with the Romulans' power profile. The analysts' best guess was that the gravity distortions observed by Navigation had to do with their way of generating power. Based on the energy conversion potential of a singularity of the size observed, it gave them an a theoretical limit that exceeded _Diversion_'s reactor output.

That said, theoretical limits were one thing. The ability to use the power was another story entirely. Containing a singularity within a ship also imposed a mass penalty that further dropped the efficiency of the process.

They had concluded that if the ship's remaining power output was split equally between weapons, propulsion and shields, then the squadron of ships would certainly pose a threat to _Diversion_.

Yates just hoped the alien commander would not call him on his bluff.

* * *

. . .

* * *

The monitor aboard the _Vengeance_ changed to the double-headed Aquila of the Romulan Empire, signifying that the channel to High Command had been opened. T'laro realized that he was involuntarily holding his breath, and forced himself to exhale and breathe normally.

The wizened visage of High Commander Ikarlus appeared on screen seconds later, and T'laro clasped his arms over his chest in salute.

"I see you are reporting in off schedule, Commander," Ikarlus observed. "What is the reason?"

T'laro explained what had happened while the High Commander listened intently.

When he had finished, the high commander spoke up. "You said they appear to be humans, from an Empire across the galaxy, in an unknown design of ship?"

"Yes."

Ikarlus was silent for several long moments. "Has there been any hostility?"

"We traded threats," T'laro spoke.

"Then you will need to calm them down," the high commander ordered disapprovingly. "Do nothing to provoke them."

T'laro looked like the proverbial deer in the headlights, but merely nodded. "Of course, High Commander."

"Good." The commander looked him in the eye. "The information I will be giving you next is for you only. Contact me from your quarters when it is secure."

"Yes, High Commander."

The screen went back to the Aquila before switching to the human ship's captain, who was still waiting with folded arms.

"It... seems there was a slight misunderstanding," the Romulan began awkwardly. "I would like to... apologize... for my words earlier."

"No harm was done," Yates stated. "Have you had any response from your government as to our request?"

_He's too calm for his situation_, T'laro thought. _Perhaps he was speaking the truth about the Kazon_. "They are making a decision and I must speak to them again."

"That is excellent news," the human said. "If you don't mind, while we are waiting, could you ask your ships to increase their distance? My crew is understandably on edge and I would prefer to avoid any accidents."

"I will see what can be done," T'laro replied, seething internally. _The human has the arrogance to dictate to me?_ He clenched his teeth and choked the response back. Orders were orders, even if they went against every fiber of his being. _What is so special about these humans, that High Command is willing to bend over backwards for them?_

* * *

. . .

* * *

Yates let out a suppressed sigh of relief as the holoscreen switched off. "Wayyn," he spoke into a comm handset, "how is the repair coming?"

"Not good," the chief engineer's voice replied. Wayyn Ploe had served for years with Yates before being transferred to _Diversion._ "We still haven't been able to locate the spare motivator. The good news is that the hyperdrive itself appears to be intact. We won't know for sure until we power it back up."

"What other options do we have?"

"Very few," Ploe replied. "We have spare motivators for the support craft, but they have a lower rating and would burn out quickly assuming we are able to connect them without making more of a mess of the system."

"Why didn't you tell me this before we had a _whole squadron of alien ships about to shoot us_?" Yates asked, exasperated.

"Captain," Ploe said patiently, "I had considered it but I wanted to exhaust the other possibilities first. We can always get a replacement motivator. We can't get a replacement hyperdrive so easily."

Yates rolled his eyes. "No we _can't_ just get a replacement motivator. Any spare parts we don't have on board have to come through that wormhole."

"I am well aware of that, Captain. We can dispatch a shuttle to return to the fleet and get the spare parts we need."

"And what do we do if that shuttle miscalculates one of their jumps?" Yates asked.

"We will still be better off than we would if we overload a shuttle motivator by trying to run _Diversion_'s hyperdrive on it."

The captain shook his head. Technically speaking, Ploe might be one of the best engineers he'd ever met, but there were times he found his personality to be _infuriating_. "Tell you what. You are going to jury-rig a motivator as quickly as you can so that we have the hyperdrive ready in an emergency. In the meantime, I am going to continue working these Romulans and see if we can get something useful out of them. Once that's done, we are going to meet in my quarters where we can air this situation out without having the crew in earshot."

"What time did you have in mind?" the chief engineer asked.

"I'll page you when I'm ready," Yates replied, slamming the mic down.

"Sir, the Romulans have opened a channel again," Comm-Scan reported.

"Put them back on." Yates waited for the Romulan's face to appear on screen. "What news do you have for us?"

"Captain Yates." The Romulan's tone seemed stiff. "I have orders to escort you and your ship to Remus, where the Praetor has agreed to meet with you. We will send you the navigational data and you will match our warp velocity."

"Well." Yates paused as his brain tried to catch up with the sudden 180. "I wouldn't have a problem with that, except it's impossible."

Now it was the Romulan's turn to boggle. "Explain."

"Our drive system is much faster than warp," Yates replied. "That is how we crossed the galaxy. Wherever Remus is, we would arrive there days or even weeks ahead of you."

Yates saw the flicker of realization that crossed the Romulan's otherwise placid face and suddenly connected it to the about-face that the Romulan had done barely a minute earlier. _They've heard about hyperdrives before_, he realized. _Which means they've had contact with Outbound Flight._

"As a gesture of good will, I will allow you to tow my ship to Remus," Yates offered. _Hopefully by the time we get there, Ploe will have that damned hyperdrive running again,_ he mentally added.

"That will be acceptable," the Romulan began, "but I must request that you remain as my guest aboard _Vengeance_ for the duration of the trip."

Yates nodded. "With equal reciprocation, of course. I will come to your ship with several members of my crew if you will send your second-in-command and several crew members to my ship."

T'laro looked as if he had just swallowed something sour. "That is agreeable."

"Excellent," Yates replied. "We will prepare a shuttle at once."


	27. Twenty Six

_**26**_

"Ferret data confirms PDC report on OpFor assets."

Standing on the flag bridge of the Executor-class Star Dreadnought _Lusankya_, Commander Deanna Troi quietly observed the crew as they went about their tasks. They were surprisingly calm and orderly, not given to idle chatter. The ever-present bass thrum of the ship's machinery seemed to provide the perfect undertone to the mood.

Officially, she was there as part of a pilot crew familiarization program launched with the Senate's recognition of the existence of the Federation. The timing of the pilot program had neatly coincided with BASCOTE—the Bastion Accords Strategic Co-Operative Training Exercise—which was held jointly between the Republic and Empire every year at Ord Mantell.

In the holotank beside her, dozens of red icons populated the floating schematic of the Bright Jewel system. Almost all were clustered around the southern hemisphere of the system's third planet, Cairns.

Noticing a sensation of unease, she turned to face a furry, almost canine snout, and momentarily recoiled before she regained her composure. While she had seen many different species during her time in Starfleet, most humanoids seemed to follow certain norms in their appearance. Bothans, however, were slightly unsettling. From a distance they appeared roughly humanoid, which was completely at odds with their equine/canine-like facial structure.

"All commands, execute contingency Osk-Zerek-Niner. Standby to jump on my mark." Admiral Traest Kre'fey waited for confirmation of the orders for a few moments, then spoke. "Mark."

The inky blackness of space outside the panoramic bridge windows turned into streaks of light for a few brief moments, as if looking at a starfield through a lens of infinite curvature. The effect was not too dissimilar to the computer generated representation of space displayed on the viewscreen whenever the _Enterprise_ went to warp. Almost as fast as it had appeared, it was replaced with the crazy, blue-shifted kaleidoscope like tunnel that Troi had come to associate with hyperspace travel. It was still somewhat nauseating to look at, and she quickly turned away from the windows.

"My apologies," Kre'fey said. "I did not mean to startle you. You are an empath, correct?"

Troi nodded. "Yes, although I have some difficulty with species far from the humanoid norm. Maybe I haven't spent enough time around Bothans."

His fur rippled slightly, and she wasn't sure if the feelings she felt coming from him were irritation or... amusement?

"I am flattered you find my species that interesting. Many say that Bothawui is no place for the faint of heart, that we are nothing more than a collection of liars and backstabbers."

She nodded slowly. "If there is one thing I have learned over the years, it is that prejudices are rarely fair."

"If only more shared that attitude," he lamented, turning his attention back to the holotank as the reversion timer began counting down.

Troi walked forward, crossing the catwalk that spanned the crew pits. She idly wondered about the lack of handrails. Given the mass of the ship and the capabilities of the inertial dampeners used here, she wasn't too surprised, but the various floating platforms and skybridges on Coruscant had similarly been handrail-free. Surely there was some sort of safety standards organization that could be reported to?

The crazy sky of hyperspace blurred back into lines before finally resolving into the pinpricks of light that were the other ships in the fleet. There was barely any sensation of movement despite the tremendous deceleration that must have been required.

"Transit successful, all ships within expected sphere of probability," Comm-Scan reported a moment later.

Looking out the windows, she spotted the brown and white orb of Cairns in the distance. Although technically terrestrial, it was at the extreme limit of that definition, an arid planet with most of its water locked into polar ice caps. The overall effect was not too dissimilar to the early pictures she had seen of Mars before its terraforming.

Her attention returned to the fleet as they began maneuvering into formation. Their movements, at this distance at least, appeared slow and ponderous when compared to the graceful maneuvering she was used to in Starfleet. Although none of the heavy combatants were less than a kilometer in length, they appeared downright diminutive next to the bulk of _Lusankya_ that spread out in front of her, coming to a dagger-like point some fifteen kilometers forward. The tangled jumble of the Star Dreadnought's "habitable honeycomb," combined with its grand scale, bore more similarities to a city than a starship.

She shook her head slightly. The crew of this impossible ship was indeed larger than many cities'—or planets'—populations. Then again, most planets weren't built to destroy other planets.

That was a sobering thought. If Master C'baoth was correct about the drive to explore having been lost in thousands of years' worth of stagnation, the amount of internal strife in this galaxy would be easily explained by an early Terran philosopher's argument for the frontier as a stabilizing factor in society.

The uncomfortable question she was left with was: Would this be the eventual fate of the galaxy she called home?

* * *

. . .

* * *

"So, how is Tionne getting along with Master Dellen?" Mara Jade-Skywalker asked.

"About what you'd expect," Luke said, stepping into their quarters aboard the _Jade Sabre._ Clothes and other items were strewn about the bunks, and a large, half-stuffed travel case floated on a cart next to Mara.

"Is Kam jealous yet?" she asked, folding up a jumpsuit and packing it into the case.

"Hardly," Luke replied. Tionne and Kam Solusar had been married for almost ten years, about a year longer than he and Mara.

"Better keep an eye on them for me," she said in a jovial tone. "They're going to be spending a lot of time together combing through the remains of the Jedi Library, and you know how those librarians can be..."

Luke frowned. "Uh, no, not really."

She turned to look at him without straightening up and quirked an eyebrow. "Right. Sorry, I forgot you were a backwater farmboy at heart for a moment there."

"I still don't follow," he said.

She turned back to packing. "Let's put it this way. Libraries are cold, lonely places where librarians spent all their time working."

"Yeah, I know that," Luke said with slight irritation.

"OK, so... put two attractive, lonely librarians of the opposite sex together in an old library for a couple months, and..." She waggled her hips suggestively for emphasis. "Well, things can happen."

Luke sighed theatrically. "Tionne is too dedicated for any of that, and Master Dellen is from the old Order. Attachment is forbidden, and all that."

"They may have forbidden attachment," Mara said, "but did they forbid _lust_?" Her hips swayed again, and Luke found the motion harder to ignore this time.

"Point taken," he finally admitted, bringin his eyes up in time to see the amused, somewhat hungry look on her face. "You know, I really wish you'd reconsider going."

She stood upright and stretched back enough to flex herself before tracing a hand down her figure. "Going to miss something?"

"When you put it that way, yes, I think I will."

"Aww, the poor lonely farmboy," she said in a mock pout before her expression hardened. "Better not do anything while I'm gone, or you might find yourself wishing I had followed the Emperor's command on Wayland."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said dryly. "But seriously, are you sure about this? What about the baby?"

"The baby will be fine," Mara said. "Besides, I'm barely in my third trimester and it's not like Cilghal's confined me to my bed."

"Would it make any difference if she did?" Luke deadpanned.

She gave him a playful jab in the arm. "When did you turn into such a worrywart anyway?"

"Hey, I'm allowed to be concerned about my wife and unborn son," he protested.

Mara snorted. "There's nothing to worry about. I'm traveling on a top of the line Star Destroyer, and when we get there Ambassador Picard says their medical technology is excellent, perhaps even superior to our own in some ways."

"Why don't I just go with you?" he asked.

"No." She reached over and put a hand to his lips before he could protest further. "Luke, the Jedi Order needs you now, more than ever. Something's going on in the Senate that is turning them against us."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Kyp."

She opened to her mouth as if to rebut him, then closed it again, and her hand slid down to his chest. "Well, yes, but I don't think it's just him. I have a feeling there's something else going on."

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "It's the Senate! There's always something else going on!"

Mara wrapped her arms around his chest, pulling him in so her belly was pressed up against him. The baby gave a soft kick. "Luke, I know you're more concerned about the baby and I than anything, and it's really touching. I wouldn't have it any other way." Her lips briefly pressed against his. "But I think you're missing the picture here. Something big is happening, I can feel it. I'm pretty sure it's connected to what Kyp and the twins discovered at Helska."

"I know that," Luke responded. "That's why we came here, remember? Admiral Kre'fey told us that sector command would deal with it."

"Luke, you and I both know it goes beyond Dalonbian Sector. Somebody needs to stay on top of this, and you're the best Jedi for the job. The Senate won't listen to anyone else, not even me."

He smiled. "Are you sure? You can be pretty damn persuasive."

"That's because I know how to get your attention." "Hey!" Luke jumped as her hand, still wrapped around him, dropped below his waist and squeezed.

"Admit it, you only married me because of that stretchy black jumpsuit I used to wear."

"Well, you _were_ kind of a _femme fatale_. Aside from the whole 'trying to kill me' bit," he joked.

"Aha. So that _did_ turn you on." Her smile broadened into a grin. "I thought I saw a bulge in your pants once or twice when we were crawling through those ducts in Mt. Tantiss."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Luke said in mock denial. "But anyway, that's not the only reason I married you."

"So it _is_ true!" she exclaimed, squeezing him with another kiss. As she released, he noted her expression had much in common with a hungry predator. "What else?"

He wrapped his arms around her, letting his fingers work their way up her back. She squirmed against him slightly. "Well, I've always liked your passionate attitude."

Mara smirked. "Are you sure it's not because you needed someone to whip you ever since you left the farm?"

"I was not whipped," he protested in vain.

"But you _know_ you enjoy it."

"Only when you do it."

She laughed, mashing her lips against his again. "Tell you the truth, I'll miss you while I'm gone."

Luke gave her a look of mock disbelief. "You? Mushy? Never!"

"Who said anything about being mushy?" she retorted, throwing him a pained glare before reaching down the front of his robe. "I meant I'd miss _this_."

"Ah!" Luke spluttered. "Don't make me defend my manhood."

"I would _love_ to see you try, Master Skywalker."

"Fine." He gave her a playful, gentle shove back toward the bunk. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

"What are you going to do, tickle me?" she taunted.

"No," he replied. "But I _might_ do this!" With that, he grabbed her in a hard kiss, spun around, and pulled her down on top of him in the bunk. The floating cart went flying through the door while the rest of the clothes, now forgotten, scattered everywhere.

After several very long moments, she pulled her lips away from his. "Watch it, Mr. I'm-so-concerned-for-the-baby."

"That coming from Mrs. I-can-take-care-of-myself?" he retorted.

"That does it." Mara grabbed the opening of his robe and pulled. "No more nice Jedi. Prepare to meet your doom, Luke Skywalker."

"The line between nightmare and fantasy keeps getting more blurred," he remarked with a smile.

"Just be thankful we have the _Sabre_ all to ourselves while Anakin's out touring the new ships," she said breathlessly in between kisses.

"Believe me, I am."

* * *

. . .

* * *

"Executing microjump."

The first stage of contingency plan OZ-9 called for _Lusankya_ and the interdictors of Task Force 1's five strike groups to microjump from their holding position at the Lagrange point of one of the system's gas giants to a geostationary position above the attacking Imperial squadron. The transition to hyperspace was so brief that Deanna Troi only noticed the blur of acceleration and deceleration.

The concept of the interdictor was also new to her, since there were very few things that could prevent a starship from escaping to warp. Tractor beams might, but only with sufficient power. The mass of the two ships was another issue; it typically only worked if the target was much lighter than its pursuer. As a result, disabling the warp nacelles of the target was typically the only reliable way to prevent a ship from escaping. Given the way the Republic armored their ships, however, she doubted that disabling a ship here was as easy.

"Jump complete. Interdiction fields activating. Strike group reversion in T-20."

During the briefing, Admiral Kre'fey had explained to her that the tactic was adopted from one of the greatest tacticians in recent history, an alien Imperial admiral named Thrawn. The interdiction fields would be used to pull the rest of the fleet precisely out of hyperspace, maintaining their formations in a manner almost impossible with a normal microjump.

"Reversion in T-15. _Monitor_ reports critical shield failure in aft quadrant and is rolling to compensate."

Kre'fey remained silent, evidently trusting his commanders to make the correct decisions as _Lusankya_'s batteries began to return fire. The only downside to this approach was that it left the Imperials with a brief window to attack the interdictors, which they had immediately taken advantage of.

Although she knew it was only a simulation, and in this scenario the Imperials had attacked first, it still sent chills down her spine to think about the cold clarity with which Admiral Kre'fey had ordered the plan's execution. She had no doubts he was capable of doing the same in real combat. Under most circumstances, a Starfleet commander ordering an immediate attack after dropping out of warp would subsequently face a review board and potential discipline, depending on the severity of his actions.

"Reversion in T-10. _Monitor_ is reporting total shield failure."

"Order _Monitor_ to maintain position," Kre'fey barked.

"Orders sent and acknowledged. T-4. Three. Two. One."

As soon as the countdown hit zero, the fleet suddenly appeared around them with weapons hot. The first salvoes struck out toward the Imperial fleet scant seconds later. For the engagement, all the guns were set to tracer mode, a visually impressive bolt of energy that had little more power than a hand blaster. Without that, every ship on both sides would have had to be slave-circuited to allow the fire control computers to share targeting data in real time to calculate hits and misses—not an impossible task, but a highly impractical one.

"_Monitor_ reports reactor damage, multiple hull breaches, and is requesting permission to disengage."

"Granted," Kre'fey said. "Fall back to sector 23. Gunships are to begin attack runs in T-15."

"Orders sent and acknowledged," Comm-scan reported.

The gunships' scale—around 200 meters in length—and tactical use seemed far more familiar to Troi than the long-distance slugging match the rest of the fleet was embroiled in. As one, they broke formation, accelerating toward the Imperial fleet. Several icons winked out along the way, but over four dozen gunships (out of 60) made it to point blank range and promptly unleashed hell. Each salvo consisted of nearly five thousand missiles, and most gunships were able to fire off three salvos. At the end of the attack run, only about twenty gunships had survived to jump back to the reserve point.

Although for the purposes of the exercise none of the missiles were carrying warheads, and all of them had their booster engines rigged for proximity self-destruction, Troi was able to see the explosions of the missiles clearly as they rippled across the Imperial fleet. Moments later, the tactical display updated itself with the results of the horrific carnage: a half dozen of the Imperials' capital ships had been marked as destroyed, with another dozen mission-killed and the rest of the force suffering major shield depletion.

"Carrier groups have arrived. Bomber strikes inbound."

The one- and two-man attack craft used reminded Deanna somewhat of the _Peregrine_ trainers she had flown at the Academy. Any similarities ended there, however. Utilized in a similar manner to the gunships, the fighters were closing to point-blank range where they would perform missile and torpedo strikes on the remaining capital ships. Unlike the gunships, the craft were far more agile—and fragile.

"All commands to close range and provide support for the bomber strikes."

By now, icons were winking out left and right on the tactical display as the battle continued to unfold. The Imperials had lost almost a third of their total strength, the Republic fleet slightly less, mostly among the gunship groups.

"Reversion in sector 37," Comm-Scan reported a moment later. "No IFF. Visual survey confirms multiple _Tector,_ _Allegiance_ and _Interdictor_ class Star Destroyers. They are targeting the carrier groups."

Kre'fey snarled something that resisted all attempts at translation. "I was wondering what their reserves were up to. Direct Strike Group 4 to intercept."

"Orders sent and acknowledged. _Redoubt_ is reporting shield failures in multiple quadrants."

Kre'fey walked over to a comm set and picked it up. "Get me Captain Durmah." He paused mometarily while the connection was made. "Captain, I need you to target the heavy batteries on the Imperial group in sector 37. Keep them off the carriers until Strike Group 4 arrives."

Deanna sighed softly and continued watching the mock battle unfold. It was becoming clear that despite the parliamentary veneer of the Republic, they had much more in common with the governments of Earth's Dark Age than they did with the enlightened society which the Federation represented. She could only hope that their willingness to seek admission in this Republic was only a temporary insanity brought on by the severity of the Dominion War, and not a first step toward weakening the ideals of the Federation.


	28. Twenty Seven

_**27**_

"Captain, we've received a FLASH-level dispatch."

Captain Ollic regarded the Comm-Scan operator with a curious expression. "Who is the sender?"

"The dispatch is heavily encrypted, Sir. The signatures are valid, but there is no real way to tell who sent it without the appropriate code cylinder."

Ollic nodded and exhaled slowly. "Put the message on a datachip. I will deliver it personally."

"At once, Sir."

The Captain took the offered datachip and began walking to the turbolift. While it was not his place to ask, he couldn't help but wonder what the message was about. Flash priority was reserved for only the most dire of emergencies, but the fact that it was encrypted for the Commodore's eyes only was even more puzzling. Speed was typically of the essence when handling FLASH dispatches.

The last time he remembered receiving a similar FLASH was nine years before, in the aftermath of a Jedi attack on Nirauan. He shook his head at the memory; the situation had been a complete disaster. While Admiral Parck had inexplicably refused to blame the Jedi, Ollic knew they had been responsible for crippling the base's defenses. That in turn had given one of the largest pirate groups in the sector an opening. They raided the damaged fortress less than a week later, capturing the Admiral and holding him for a ransom. The _Magistrate_ been the first to respond, setting out in search of the pirates' base. It was only through skillful maneuvering and a delicate strike operation that they had managed to recover the Admiral.

Before long he was standing in front of the door to the Commodore's quarters. With the barest hint of a hiss, the door slid open, and Ollic stepped into the darkened room with caution. The Chiss eye structure allowed them to see into the infrared spectrum, so they were generally more at home in the dark than most humanoids. The same structure was responsible for the red glow that Ollic still found somewhat disconcerting.

"What seems to be the matter, Captain?" Mantrel asked.

Taking care not to stumble or trip in the dim light, Ollic made his way to the Commodore's desk and placed the datachip on it. "We received a FLASH-level dispatch," he explained. "It was marked for your eyes only."

He slid the chip across the desk, where the Commodore picked it up without a word and slid it into a terminal. Ollic waited for about a minute for him to read the message before speaking again.

"What orders do you have for me, Sir?"

Mantrel appeared to take his time choosing words. "The Chiss Ruling Families have appealed to the Empire of the Hand for assistance," he stated. "All available assets have been directed to make emergency flank speed to Csilla immediately."

Ollic nodded. "I will have Navigation chart a course at once. If I may ask, Sir, what happened?"

Instead of replying directly, Mantrel keyed his desk comm unit. "All commands, this is the Commodore. We have received new orders. I will be holding a briefing in fifteen minutes." Having done that, he came to his feet and glanced at the still-waiting Captain. "Walk with me."

"Yes, Sir."

As they made their way from the darkened room into the corridor beyond, Ollic found his mind wandering in the silence. What could possibly cause the Chiss Ruling Families to request the actual _assistance_ of the Empire? The Ruling Families had permitted the Empire to operate, if only because Thrawn had made a point of staying outside their reach and not interfering in the affairs of the Ascendancy. He had not, however, heard of any cases where the Ruling Families had acknowledged—let alone sanctioned—the existence of the Empire. Therefore, whatever reason they had for calling must have been serious indeed.

The turbolift doors opened in front of them with a quiet hiss, and they stepped inside. As the doors slid shut, Mantrel turned to face Ollic.

"What do you think is the reason for the dispatch?" he asked, almost as if he could tell what the captain was thinking.

"A direct attack on the Ascendancy," Ollic replied without hesitation.

"Explain."

"From what I've learned, they are too insular and proud to request help for any reason other than a crisis that threatens the Ruling Families themselves."

Mantrel nodded almost imperceptibly. "Have you considered the possibility of a coup?"

"Possible but unlikely," Ollic said after a moment's consideration. "Power struggles between the Ruling Families are not unheard of, but given the structure of the government, a decapitation strike would be extremely unlikely to succeed."

"Agreed. What possibilities does that leave us with?"

Idly, the captain scratched the stubble on his chin. He would need to shave as soon as he was off duty. "Of the known aggressors in the region, I can think of only two with the motivation to pull off such an attack: the Ssi-Ruuvi and the Vagaari."

He could have sworn he saw a glint of amusement cross the Commodore's face. "Which one do you believe to be more likely?"

"The Vagaari," he replied a moment later. "They have not been seen for over fifty years, but once in a while a small colony will either outright disappear, or report a pirate raid consistent with their motives. Unfortunately, we have never managed to collect conclusive proof it was them."

Mantrel nodded. "Why did you immediately discount the Ssi-Ruuvi?"

"As you are well aware, our campaign against the Imperium conducted Base Delta Zero operations against every Ssi-Ruuvi world in the cluster and limited bombardments of their colonies. Our probe droids scouted every system within a thousand light-years of that cluster. Barring a previously unknown power base within the galactic halo, I believe it is safe to say that their species is extinct."

In reality, it had been less a campaign than a fulfillment of Thrawn's promise of retribution against the loathsome saurian species. Ollic had been a lieutenant commander at the time his ship was reassigned to URCOM (Unknown Regions Command). During the conflict, he had rapidly risen through the ranks, eventually landing his command aboard the _Magistrate_ under Commodore Mantrel.

"A sound analysis," Mantrel nodded. "Unfortunately the data included in the dispatch does not fit the Vagaari, or the Ssi-Ruuvi for that matter."

The turbolift doors chose that moment to open, and Ollic began issuing orders as soon as he stepped out on to the bridge. He noted with no small sense of pride the calm, collected professionalism of his bridge crew as they immediately acted upon the orders. When the ship's bosun sounded general quarters moments later, the pace of activity increased in tempo.

After several minutes had passed, he stood in the strategy room, looking across the holotable at the flickering miniature representations of the other commanders in the task force.

"Commanders," Mantrel addressed the gathering. "As you may have concluded from your orders, we are making an emergency flank speed combat jump directly to Csilla, the capital of the Chiss Ascendancy."

He manipulated the holotable and a rough object that looked like a cross between a rock and a mollusk appeared. "None of us have engaged this enemy in combat before, although General Fel's recon squadrons have been tracking their progress through Wild Space and into the New Republic. For reasons unknown to us, the Republic has chosen not to act. We believe this to be a grave error."

The Commodore paused to zoom in on the ship. "While we are unsure of their motives for attacking the Ascendancy, since Mitth'raw'nuruodo first encountered this enemy over sixty years ago we have believed it only to be a matter of time before an attack like this occurred. Much like the Republic, the Ruling Families have remained complacent about this threat, and today it has cost them dearly."

As the strange craft rotated, he pointed at it. "First, from what we can tell, their hulls are composed of mineral deposits, with high concentrations of metals normally seen in durasteel alloys. Despite this, we do not believe it compares to destroyer armor.

"Second, while we have not detected any traditional form of shielding on their ships, weapon fire directed at them has been seen to disappear.

"Similarly," he continued, "General Fel's scouts were unable to discern the method of propulsion. The boffins have theorized it may involve some form of gravitic technology, but for now I suggest we do not jump to conclusions."

His red-eyed gaze swept over the assembled commanders. "We have, however, witnessed the effects of their weaponry. It appears to fall mostly into two categories: short-range, intense plasma bursts of similar firepower to a turbolaser, and longer range molten metal projectiles."

One of the commanders snickered at that, and Mantrel shot him an icy glare. "While I would normally agree that their firepower is laughable, they appear to possess some means of disabling a target's shields from a distance. I _cannot_ stress hard enough that we must not underestimate this enemy."

Straightening up, he paced slowly around the table. "When the Grand Admiral established our Empire here, on the edge of the galaxy, he did so for a purpose. We represent the first line of defense, not only for the Chiss, but for the entire galaxy. We cannot—we must not—fail."

There were murmurs of agreement from the commanders.

"Dismissed."

* * *

. . .

* * *

Space above Csilla was already quite crowded by the time the task force arrived, not quite an hour later. Debris fields from the ongoing battle were already beginning to elongate, and without intervention would eventually form rings around the planet. Several Star Destroyer sized rock-like ships hung low over the planet in much the same way that rocks don't. One was in a typical low orbit, while the other three were deep in the atmosphere, blasting away at the frozen surface.

Mantrel took one look at the holotank and picked up a comm handset. "All ships, weapons free. Fire at will."

Space lit up as hundreds of turbolaser batteries spread across the dozen-odd ships of the task force opened up. Yet out of the impressive barrage, only a few odd shots actually connected. The rest simply vanished.

"Emperor's black bones," someone in the crew pits murmured. Ollic found himself agreeing with the sentiment, if not the crewman's loss of concentration.

"Stay focus," he admonished. "Maintain fire."

Nearly three minutes later, no changes appeared to be forthcoming when one of the Comm-Scan techs spoke up. "Sir, the targets in atmosphere have been losing altitude every since the bombardment began."

Mantrel nodded as it seemed he came to a realization. He grabbed the handset again. "All commands, concentrate fire on target designate _Besh_."

It took several seconds for the effect of the new orders to be seen, but the lowest of the three rock-ships began losing altitude rapidly as more fire was concentrated on it. Evidently the aggressors had some sense of self-preservation, since the other two ships quickly began clawing their way toward space.

"Maintain fire," Mantrel ordered.

Ollic soon realized the other ships weren't trying to escape—they were trying to save their comrades by interposing themselves in the line of fire. He immediately knew they weren't dealing with pirates or any such disorganized rabble—that was the mark of a professional military force.

"Helm, re-orient starboard 37 degrees, pitch minus 11," he snapped off, an idea suddenly coming to him. "Gunnery, six concussion missiles on target Besh, bracketing pattern, standoff five klicks."

"Missiles ready," the weapons officer reported seconds later.

He waited until the two ships were almost directly in line with the target. "Mark."

As their name implied, concussion missiles achieved most of their damage through the concussive shock waves they produced. In space, proximity detonation of a concussion missile would, at most, briefly bathe the target in ionizing radiation. Most navigational deflectors could handle such radiation with ease, which is why the missiles were designed to penetrate shields before initiating on contact.

In the atmosphere, however, the concussion missile came into its own. At the heart of the warhead was a small amount of hypermatter surrounding a target sphere. To initiate the device, the missile's droid brain sent a small pulse through the hypermatter, destabilizing it and creating an explosion powerful enough to compress the target into a singularity. An almost infinitely small fraction of a second later, the singularity would then evaporate, releasing a blast of energy more powerful than the heaviest turbolaser shot.

Six miniature stars, each hundreds of times brighter than Csilla's own sun, flared to life in the planet's upper atmosphere. The initial pulse converted the thin atmosphere surrounding each device to plasma in an instant, creating rapidly expanding concussion waves that merged together into a flower-like toroidal fireball. The hapless rocky craft in its center disappeared in the conflagration, while the two ships that had been trying to save it were caught in the same shockwave moments later, buffeting them up and out of the atmosphere.

When the brightness of the fireballs had died down, Ollic was somewhat surprised to see the target was still in one piece, although even that was debatable as pieces began flaking off of its fractured hull. Smoldering, smoke trailing behind it, it looked almost exactly like a meteor in its free-fall dive toward the planet.

"Launch fighters," Mantrel ordered meanwhile. "Keep their attack craft away from the Defense Force ships."

Moments later, it was over. Between the reinforcements and losing one of his own ships, the enemy commander evidently decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and in a flicker of pseudomotion the three craft were gone. The small craft that had been harrying the CEDF ships likewise vanished into hyperspace only seconds after the destroyers.

"Should we pursue?" Ollic asked.

The Commodore shook his head. "This was a hit and fade strike. The fact that we were able to bring down one of their ships is victory enough."

"What of the wreckage?"

"I will instruct Colonel Sheppard to ready a company to secure the crash site. In the meantime, begin surveying the planet to determine where we should dispatch aid first."

* * *

. . .

* * *

Little changed in the six hours following the attack. Colonel Sheppard's troops had established a perimeter around the wreckage of the ship, but so far there were no signs of survivors. The CEDF frigates were still licking their wounds, conducting emergency repairs with assistance from his engineers.

Csilla itself remained relatively unscathed, owing to the fact that its major cities were underground. However, a significant amount of its above-ground food production had been destroyed or damaged, along with spaceports and associated surface dwellings. All told, it had been enough to completely overwhelm the medical staff from the fleet, as well as tying up every available freighter within the region to bring food in from the colonies.

"Hyperspace reversion," Comm-Scan reported. "_Imperator_ class. IFF identifies it as the _Admonitor_." There was a brief pause while the tech checked his console. "Incoming transmission."

Ollic stepped over to the holotable as a quarter height figure appeared. Between the eyepatch and the severe features, there was no way he could have been mistaken.

"General Baron Fel," Ollic said with a salute. "It's been a while."

"Captain Ollic," Fel replied. "Likewise. Since it appears that the Commodore has the situation here well in hand, please inform him that Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano has requested his presence. We will be meeting here at 1800 hours. You and any other senior officers are also welcome to attend."

Ollic nodded. "Thank you, Sir. I shall inform him at once."

* * *

. . .

* * *

They stepped off the shuttle onto _Admonitor_'s deck several hours later. The old ship—Thrawn's original command—had obviously seen better days, judging by the slightly metallic tang in the air that indicated its atmospheric systems needed maintenance. Other than that, its hangar bay was indistinguishable from the _Magistrate_'s own, which was unsurprising considering that the two ships shared the same Imperator-class block configuration.

Standing at the base of the ramp, where he might have expected to see an honor guard of stormtroopers, was instead a mix of human and Chiss troops in CEDF uniform. Ollic glanced over at the Commodore, but his expression remained impassive. At the head of the honor guard stood General Fel, hands clasped behind his back. Beside him was a Chiss dressed in the formal robes of an aristocrat, who Ollic immediately guessed was Chaf'orm'bintrano.

Mantrel approached first, saluting the General in the normal Imperial fashion. When Fel returned the salute, Ollic's brow furrowed; usually a salute was returned only for officers of equivalent rank. Mantrel then stopped in front of the Aristocra and gave a respectful bow.

After Ollic had greeted them, Fel turned and gestured toward the hangar exit. "After you."

The walk to the conference room, punctuated by two turbolift rides, was about as brief as could be expected on a one and a half kilometer ship. It was also uncomfortably quiet; the silence was only broken by General Fel once they arrived.

"I apologize for keeping you in suspense," he began, "but the magnitude of the topic at hand is not well-suited to informal conversation. You may have already guessed however."

He cleared his throat. "First, I have some bad news to share. Admiral Parck passed away earlier this week. In recognition of his services, the Ruling Families have offered to hold his funeral on Csilla, although it looks as if it may have to be postponed.

"Which brings me to our second topic," and he turned to face Mantrel. "Admiral, you are now the most senior ranking naval officer in the Empire. It is my honor to carry out Admiral Parck's request and grant you this rank."

He pulled out a set of rank bars, removed the old one from Mantrel's unform, and attached the new one in its place.

"Our final topic concerns the future of our Empire, of Thrawn's vision and legacy. I believe that Aristocra Formbi will be the best one to explain."

With that, they all took a seat except for the Aristocra.

"Gentlemen," he began in subtly accented Basic. "Although it comes as no surprise to you, Mitth'raw'nuruodo's warning of a dire threat to our civilization has borne true. Over the past month we have seen similar hit and fade attacks on our colonies. While I still believe we must not violate our ideals as a society, a fact that Mitth'raw'nuruodo and I could never agree on, I also believe there is ample room for improvement within the framework of our laws, and the Families agree.

"I came here on behalf of the Council to meet with Admiral Parck about integrating all of you—your "Empire of the Hand"—into our defense forces. As Baron Fel will attest, the Admiral was supportive of the idea, but did not want to force any decision upon his crews. With his untimely demise, I thought it best if we were able to meet before making any final decisions."

With that, he took his seat, glancing around the table. Ollic himself wasn't entirely sure what to make of the news. On the one hand, he had spent almost his entire career fighting to defend the Ascendancy—and the rest of the region—from outside threats. On the other, Chiss society was quite rigid. He wondered how they planned on dealing with the majority of the Empire's human troops if they accepted the offer.

He glanced over at Mantrel, wondering what his commander thought, and was surprised to see what looked like moisture in the corner of his eyes. His normally impassive expression otherwise remained as inscrutable as ever as he cleared his throat.

"I would be honored to rejoin the Defense Force, but there is a question that remains."

Formbi nodded. "Speak freely."

"What is your plan on dealing with the integration of what are essentially two independent command structures?"

"For now, we plan on splitting the Defense Force into different services. Your Navy will form the core of a new Defense Force Navy, with the existing command structure remaining unchanged for the time being. You will answer directly to the Syndic of House Nuruodo.

"The current Defense Fleet will merge with the Expeditionary Defense Force under the direction of Baron Fel, who will likewise answer to the Syndic. You may still address him as General, but within that structure he will be referred to with an equivalent rank. Your existing starfighter corps will likewise fall into the new structure.

"Finally, we will consolidate all ground troops from both the Defense Force and the Empire into the new Defense Force Army. Since that is a lower priority, we have not made any decisions yet on what structure it will follow."

He looked around the table. "Any questions?"

"How long until the integration begins?" Ollic asked.

"The upper command structure changes will take place immediately following the ratification of the new Defense Force charter by the Council. Following that, your crews will be given a two-week period in which to make their decisions."

The room was silent for several moments before Mantrel spoke again. "There may be a slight problem."

Formbi's eyebrows rose slightly, but he said nothing.

"One of our Strike Cruisers is on a long-term reconnaissance mission, and will be out of contact for the foreseeable future. How do you propose we handle cases like that in this transition?"

Ollic noticed Fel's brow crease during the explanation. Updates had obviously not been going both ways, which on its own was not terribly surprising since Mantrel's task force had been posted on the opposite end of the region, operating semi-autonomously for years.

"Clearly, we need to discuss improving communications as we proceed," Formbi remarked wryly. "How far away are they? If they cannot be contacted, we can simply grant them the two week decision period upon their return."

"Perhaps it would be better if I started from the beginning," Mantrel said. "Aristocra, do you remember Outbound Flight?"

Formbi sighed quietly. "All too well. That was the event that made me begin to reconsider our isolationist stance," he admitted.

"In that case, you may be surprised to discover that we found evidence of their survival."

His eyes narrowed to slits. "Where?"

"A new galaxy."

Ollic could almost see the gears turning in the Aristocra's head. "Exactly how long do you believe it will be before your ship returns?"

"They were equipped with roughly three years' worth of supplies," Mantrel offered. "Transit through the anomaly appears to be instantaneous, but we are not sure how long it will be before they locate the final resting place of Outbound Flight."

"I see," Formbi said. "Was there any sign of other life in the galaxy or any threats we should be concerned about?"

"Our initial probes did not find anything immediate," he stated. "Captain Yates will be providing a more complete report upon his return."

"And if he should not?"

"We have measures in place to ensure data is sent in the unlikely event of mission failure," Mantrel said.


	29. Twenty Eight

_**28**_

It was, Han reflected, another beautiful day on Sernpidal. The system's typical yellow star hung high in the sky, washing the plains with its bright light. Various trees and grasses that Han still didn't remember the names for yet were blowing in a gentle breeze, and the air, compared to most of the places like Coruscant that Han was used to, was absolutely pristine.

Yet, to him, it seemed almost _too_ perfect. Then again, perhaps it was just the old smuggler in him, itching for action. He could not even remember a time at which he'd been settled down for any real length of time, much less the year or so they had now been on Sernpidal. His life had always consisted of running from place to place, being chased by authorities, chasing corrupt authorities, and other various excitement.

Han walked over to the Millennium Falcon with a slow, bored gait. As was the norm for the now almost antique, war-weary freighter, something else had decided to break. In this case, it was the remote-controlled blaster turret below the cockpit. Chewie, who Han suspected was just as bored as he was, was currently hanging halfway out of one of the _Falcon_'s access ports trying to find the damage in one of the wiring harnesses.

He almost envied the Wookiee. While he had spent a lot of his time pacing restlessly, Chewie had spent all his time tinkering on the Falcon as was usual for him. One of the local junkyards had turned up some parts from another YT-1300, which Han found somewhat surprising this far from any of the major spaceports, and as soon as Chewie had seen the parts he'd bought the whole bundle of them and set about repairing minor glitches all over the ship.

The only problem with fixing a glitch on the Falcon was that it had a nasty tendency to introduce a hundred other minor glitches, and after getting the parts Chewie had almost completely disassembled half the ship in the effort to fix them all. The Wookiee had succeeded only after rebuilding almost a hundred meters of wiring harness that had decayed from close to a century of age and abuse. The remote blaster had been the only casualty of the latest round of fixes. Not only were the control axes reversed, the feedback was now so jumpy that it had become impossible to aim.

Han sighed. There had been times when he'd considered getting a new ship, but the _Falcon_ was so much more than a ship to him—it was almost like a member of the family. Newer ships might have been faster, more powerful, carrying heavier loads or more firepower, but Han had known for years that part of navigating through hyperspace was your intuition. It was, after all, the reason he had boasted to a young Luke Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi that his ship had completed the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs. It didn't really refer to speed at all as much as it did to his navigational abilities.

_The good old days_, Han thought wistfully. Whatever had happened to the Galaxy? It used to be simple enough, there was one evil enemy: the Galactic Empire. Now, between all the political infighting and what seemed like yearly invasions by various galactic and extragalactic races, Han wasn't sure who was the enemy anymore. Everyone hated everyone else for one reason or another. In a way, Han almost _missed_ the Empire, because it served as a polarizing agent: it was an enemy that everyone could agree on.

Han looked up at the sky, seeing the light crescent of Dobido, the smaller of Sernpidal's two moons, hanging in the distance, and sighed. Then a bright streak of light flashed by, which wouldn't have been very unusual by itself but the fact that it was followed by another several streaks caught his attention. Not only that, but unlike meteors that usually vanished after a couple of seconds, these left smoky trails in their wakes. On any other planet it could have been space junk re-entering the atmosphere, if it wasn't for the fact that Sernpidal was unusually free of space debris...

"Chewie!" he shouted as he started walking backwards toward the _Falcon_. "How close are you to getting that turret operational? I have a bad feeling..."

Chewie bellowed a reply.

"Well try to hurry it up, you never know when we'll need the_ Falcon." _Han turned around and jogged in to the house.

* * *

"Hi, Han," Leia remarked from where she was laying on the sofa as he entered. As always, her skin was still a deathly pale hue, and her eyes seemed to have aged ten extra years from the strain of the disease. "What's the look for?"

Han shrugged as he sat down and thumbed on the vidscreen. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "Maybe I'm just too tense, but I saw some re-entry trails when I was outside. It didn't look like meteorites or space junk to me."

"Are you sure?" Leia asked. "Remember, we used to see those on Coruscant all the time."

Han nodded. "Yeah, and Coruscant's practically a battlefield, there's so much junk in orbit that it's a miracle more ships aren't lost to it. This place, on the other hand, doesn't have anything much larger than a remote flying around up there, and one of those pieces would burn up real quick. No, those things I saw were spaceship sized or larger."

As he was talking, Han had idly been flipping through the holo channels. Most of it was pre-recorded programs, dramas or documentaries, and some of the major sector news channels. He finally reached Sernpidal's local news, but of course there was nothing happening. One of the local farmers had reported all his crops dying but that was about it.

"Well, I guess you're right," Han said finally, standing up to go pour himself a drink. "I guess what the kids told us has me on edge. I hope they're all right out there."

Leia gave him a wan smile. "They're Jedi Knights now, Han. I'm sure they can take care of themselves. Besides, what would anyone want with a planet like Sernpidal, anyway?"

* * *

Several hours later, Han was jolted out of the doze he'd fallen into in front of the vidscreen by a news flash. He was somewhat surprised to see the planet's old Mayor on the screen, while the faint sounds of blaster shots rang out in the distance. Without thinking, Han hit the "record" button on his remote.

"Residents of Sernpidal," the old man began with a wheeze that was hinted with sadness, "it unfortunately falls to me to inform you that we are under attack by an unknown force."

As if to punctuate his statement, there was a loud crash and some dust was shaken loose from the building he was in.

"Sernpidal City is lost. If any of you have ships, get as many people as you can and leave. Our police will try to delay this enemy as much as possible but you will not have much time. Try to send a message to Coruscant, I doubt they will listen but we can at least-"

There was a loud crash from behind him as one of the doors was blown open. Several strange-looking humanoid forms, their bodies showing exposed horn-like growths in random places, ran through the doorway and took up positions around the room. Several screams of panic came from off camera, and the Mayor turned around only to face the incoming aliens. "_Guvvuk!_" one of them grunted before pointing his staff at the old Mayor. The mayor backed up, and the feed abruptly shut off.

Han sat motionless for several seconds, dazed. "Leia!" he finally shouted as he sprung off the seat as fast as he could. "The city's under attack! We have to leave NOW!" He grabbed a datachip with the recording and ran outside. Chewie, who had apparently finished putting the panels back on the Falcon, was watching more bizarre looking ships landing in Sernpidal City in the distance.

"Chewie, is the Falcon ready to go?"

The Wookiee barked a curious affirmation.

"The city's under attack and we're in danger here. Help me carry Leia out to the ship." Without waiting for a response, Han turned and dashed back toward the house. He found Leia inside the bedroom, trying to pack some of their mementos.

"Do you know where the datachip of Jacen's Jedi Knight ceremony went?" she asked, pausing to lean against one of the chests.

"That's not important," Han snapped. "You are. Chewie and I are going to get you out to the Falcon, where you can start running the preflight sequence. We'll take care of everything else."

Before he could say anything, Chewie scooped his wife up and headed out the door. Han looked around the room at the memories of twenty years of their life together, sighed, and started stuffing what he could into a duffel bag.

Several minutes later, he stuffed the bulging bag under one of the rear seats in the _Falcon_'s cockpit. "Honey, is there anything else we need?"

Leia glanced over at him. "Where's Threepio?"

"Ah, kriff," he swore, ducking back out of the cockpit and jogging back to the house. Threepio was slumped over in a corner of the main room, eyes dimmed. Han whacked the activation switch on the back of the droid's head, and he jerked upright. "Master Han! How may I be of assistance?"

"Shut up and get to the Falcon," Han said curtly.

The droid recoiled slightly. "Why, there's no need to be rude."

"Damn it, Goldenrod! I'm going to get a lot _more_ rude if you don't get your shiny metal ass in gear!"

Threepio began shuffling toward the exit. "Why do I never find out what's going on?" he lamented as he stepped through the doorway.

"Because you're a pain in the ass!" Han shot back at him while rummaging through a drawer. "Damn it, why isn't anything where I expect it to be?"

"I do not believe I can answer that question," Threepio replied.

"It wasn't a question!" Han yelled. "Go! Get out of here!" Without bothering to push the drawer back in, he moved on. Junk littered the counter as he hurriedly dumped out each subsequent drawer, eventually locating the datachip he was looking for with a triumphant cry.

He passed Threepio on his way back to the cockpit, where he found Leia slumped in the co-pilot's chair. "I found that chip you were looking for," he said as he handed it to her. Then he paused. "Where's Chewie?"

Leia waved out the viewports. "He's helping some locals."

Han looked up in the direction she was pointing and immediately cursed under his breath. Some distance behind Chewie and the group of Sernpidalans he was helping, several dark shapes were kicking up a large cloud of dust. "Are those all refugees? I don't think we can fit that many."

"I don't know," Leia sighed. "It's weird. I can sense the refugees with Chewie, but nothing beyond them. Like they're a void." She paused to look at him. "Han, I've got-"

"A bad feeling," he completed for her. "Yeah. Tell me about it. How are you coming on the preflight checks?"

"Engines are warming up," she replied. "Should be ready in another five minutes."

He nodded. "I'll go help Chewie."

* * *

By the time he reached the refugees, the dust cloud had grown much larger—and much closer. "What's going on?" he asked, stepping in to help an elderly alien who was limping slowly.

The Sernpidalan gestured to the larger group, which was now not far behind. His broken Basic took Han a few seconds to understand. "Those... those things, they try kill us. Destroy car-ground and home. Many wounds escaping us."

"We're almost there. Just a little-" was all Han managed before a cluster of buzzing missiles sailed overhead, exploding harmlessly in the field and showering them with rocks and dirt. "What the hell was _that_?"

Chewie bellowed, scooping up two Sernpidalans and charging for the boarding ramp. Han glanced at the elder, who shook his head and gestured to several shorter Sernpidalans. "Childs first."

Not wanting to argue, Han grabbed one in each arm with a grunt, and took off. By the time he reached the ramp, Chewie had already vaulted down and was heading back. After strapping the kids in to one of the acceleration couches, he leaned against a bulkhead, breathing heavily. "Damn it, I'm getting too old for this shit."

He reached the ramp to find the rest of the Sernpidalans filing in, and spent the next several minutes getting them seated. There was no sign of the elder or Chewie yet, so he went back down the ramp and saw Chewie carrying the elder toward the ship. They were only about fifty meters away, but the pursuers had closed to about two hundred meters and Han could now clearly see the disfigured, hunchbacked troops with wickedly pointed staves who were marching alongside floating, snail-like vehicles.

The distinctive buzzing of one of the strange missiles only provided him with a split second of warning before the ground next to him erupted, knocking him off the ramp. He picked himself up off the ground, shaking his head in an unsuccessful attempt to clear the ringing in his ears, and looked around for Chewie.

The enemy troops were now charging toward them, staves brandished overhead like spears. Chewie had likewise been knocked over, and was attempting to pick the elder Sernpidalan back up.

"Chewie!" Han shouted at the top of his lungs. "I'm coming!"

Behind him, the auto-blaster roared to life and began mowing the troops down. Han instinctively knew it wouldn't be enough as he sprinted toward the pair. They placed the elder's arms over their shoulders and began running back to the ship as fast as they could.

Barely twenty meters from the ramp, Chewie stumbled, causing Han to fall with the elder on top of him.

"Chewie! You OK?" he yelled over the frenzied cries of the rapidly approaching troops.

The Wookiee bellowed that he had been hit by something, but he would be OK and Han needed to get to the cockpit.

"I'm not leaving you here!"

The roar he received in reply was an unequivocally clear rebuttal, as Chewie picked the Sernpidalan off him. Han wasted no time scrambling up the ramp, dashing through the corridor to the cockpit and throwing himself into the pilot's seat. His hands flew over the controls on automatic, checking that all systems were ready, but he stopped on the ramp controls.

"Chewie?"

"I can't see him," Leia said quietly. Bodies were strewn all over the field, the damage from the auto-blaster obvious, and the remaining troops were waiting behind the odd vehicles. The nearest one erupted with golden fire, and a moment later the ship rocked from an impact.

"Sithspit!" Han swore, jumping out of the chair and drawing his blaster on the way to the ramp.

What he saw next left his jaw hanging open.

Chewie was in the center of a dozen or so creatures. He had grabbed one of them and was swinging him around as a club, battering the others down until they were bloody and broken. As he watched, Chewie swung and two creatures went flying backwards almost two meters, landing with a sickening crash.

As close as they were, Han couldn't fire for fear of hitting Chewie, so his only choice was to wait for a chance shot that he wasn't sure would come.

Finally it was down to just Chewie and the heavily armored leader of the group, who was unbelievably even uglier than the rest of the troops. Bony horns stuck out from all its joints, and its face was hideously disfigured with protruding teeth, deep scars, and numerous tattoos. In its hand was some sort of long staff, which it twirled menacingly as it and Chewie circled, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Han took advantage of the distance to fire a shot off, only to blink in surprise as the bolt dissipated harmlessly against the creature's armor. Distracted, Chewie turned his head to look at Han, and the creature used the opportunity to strike out with its staff. The sharp edge bit deep into Chewie's leg, and the tall Wookiee crashed down.

"You son of a Gundark!" Han shouted, snapping off a rapid burst of bolts that caused the creature to stagger. Almost calmly, the thing pulled something off a bandolier on its chest and threw it. Han recoiled as something whizzed past, exploding a second later and shredding the padding on the bulkhead.

When he peeked out again he saw that Chewie had come back to his feet, visibly limping as Wookiee and alien continued circling. The alien swung again, but Chewie managed to duck under the blow and grab its arm. A moment later, there was a sickening _crunch_ as the Wookiee ripped the arm from its socket and let out a roar of triumph.

Unfortunately, any victory was short-lived. The staff weapon suddenly went limp, slithering down the detached arm and coiling itself around Chewie. It began tightening around his chest, and Han grimaced as he heard bones crack.

Still, Chewie was not about to let that stop him. He grabbed the serpent-staff's mouth and yanked, roaring in pain and anger. With a snap, the creature went limp and fell to the ground.

Han's attention went back to the alien as he saw movement, and he sent another burst of shots into its face before running down the ramp to Chewie, who was now staggering almost drunkenly.

"Come on, old buddy," he said softly as he draped one of the Wookiee's arms over himself to help him back to the ship. Chewie moaned in pain, but stubbornly continued walking. "We'll get you patched up."

As soon as they had climbed the ramp, Han slammed the controls to close it. "Leia! Blast off!"

The ship pitched suddenly, nearly making Han lose his footing, but he was able to steady himself against a bulkhead and they made their way to the medical berth. Chewie eased himself onto the bench, coughing and moaning, and Han found himself looking at the injuries up close for the first time.

The Wookiee was a mess. His fur was matted with blood, his breath ragged. Seeing his massive hands twitching, Han picked up one to look and almost immediately turned away, seeing bone through deep wounds in the fingers.

"Let's get you hooked up to the life support," he muttered as he fumbled to pull the mask off its holder and tie it around Chewie's face.

"Han!" Leia shouted from the cockpit. "I _really_ need you up here!"

"Hang on!" he shouted back as he grabbed a bottle of antiseptic. "I'm cleaning up Chewie!" He turned back to the Wookiee. "This is going to hurt."

Chewie gave what amounted to a weak laugh, as if to say what was a little more pain?

"Han, there might not be anything left to clean up if you don't get up here!"

"I'm coming, just keep us in one piece!" He splashed the antiseptic all over, trying to wash off whatever might have made its way into the wounds, and Chewie moaned softly. "Come on, you're gonna make it. You can make it. We're gonna get you to Lando's, put you in a bacta tank, and you'll be good as new!"

Chewie chuffed a reply, coughing blood immediately afterwards.

"Of course I'm sure they have Wookiee sized tanks," Han shot back, a faint hint of his trademark lopsided smile creeping across his face. He was just glad to see that Chewie was at least strong enough to make a joke. Then he began wrapping bandages around the Wookiee, hoping they would be enough to stop the flow of blood.

"HAN!"

The ship lurched drunkenly, nearly throwing Chewie from the berth. Han reached over and cinched the restraint straps, then put his hand on the Wookiee's shoulder. "Hang in there, old buddy," he said as he got up, trying hard to suppress the choking sensation in his throat. "I'll be right back."

He rushed to the cockpit, only to stop suddenly at the hatch as his brain tried to take in the sight. "The _kriff_ is that?"

A massive, Star Destroyer-sized lump of rock, crags and spines sticking out of it almost at random, filled the viewports. Orbs of golden light drifted lazily toward them, and smaller craft buzzed about trying to land hits on the venerable freighter.

"No idea," Leia replied as Han dropped into his chair and threw the _Falcon_ into a series of evasive maneuvers. "How's Chewie?"

"Bad," Han said tersely. "Can you set a course for Dubrillion?"

"Why? We need to get to Coruscant!"

"Too far!" Han shouted back, twisting the ship to avoid colliding with another refugee ship. "Lando's operation has a first rate medical center. It's the closest place that can help Chewie!"

"Alright! I'm working on it!"

Han glanced down at the sensor panel and swore softly under his breath. "There must be hundreds."

"What, the fighter things? Try thousands."

He shook his head. "No. Refugees. They're being torn to pieces."

Leia considered it. "Can we help them?"

He shook his head. "Look, Princess, we're jumping as soon as you get that course plotted. I'm not putting you and Chewie at risk any longer than I have to."

"Maybe we can just get them to follow us?" she pleaded.

He sighed. "Fine. Broadcast the coordinates as soon as you get a course plotted. I'll try to get their attention." Hoping that Kyp's guess that the invaders didn't communicate on normal frequencies was correct, he keyed the comm for a wide broadcast.

"All Sernpidal refugees, this is Han Solo, captain of the _Millennium Falcon_. Your best chance is to get to Dubrillion. We will transmit coordinates shortly."

Whether they followed or not, Han was at least satisfied that he'd done what he could to help.

"Got it!" Leia attempted to whoop, but wound up coughing instead. "Sent."

He spun the ship around to line it up with the entry vector, and hit the hyperdrive controls... only to be greeted by the sound of the gravity well alarm.

"What the..." Han muttered a number of choice Old Corellian curses under his breath as he frantically tried to figure out what was causing the well. They were already well outside Sernpidal's gravity well, so the only other thing that could possibly be causing it...

He looked up at the asteroid-ship in the distance, which barely looked like a speck at the range they were at now. A sudden realization hit him, and he keyed the comm again. "That ship's an interdictor! Try to get on the other side of Sernpidal!"

He spun the Falcon and punched the throttle, diving at an angle that would take him on an arc just barely above the outermost reaches of the planet's atmosphere. Any lower, Han knew, and they'd hit the rarefied air and slow down. Far behind, the nearest of the other refugee ships started the same maneuver.

All of a sudden, cries broke out frantically from the comm. "It's taken down my shields!"

Han grimaced, knowing what was coming. His eyes drifted to the throttle, but it was already set at the maximum, and the _Falcon_ was still accelerating, blasting away on a tangent towards the planet and hopefully freedom.

"Mine are down too!" another voice exclaimed, followed by several cries of "I'm hit!" Far back in the line, the sensors registered an explosion, the first of what Han hoped were _very_ few.

"My hull is melting!"

"What the kriff are they firing at us?" another voice shouted.

Han didn't even want to think about the poor bastards in the haphazard convoy that lacked armor.

"Kriff!" he exclaimed as all the sensor warning lights light up on the console at the same time as a flash of plasma streaked right by the cockpit, indicating that there was an attacker right behind him. He tried several twists and turns to shake it, to no avail.

"Grab the turret controls, I can't shake 'em," Han said to Leia as he strained the Falcon's inertial compensators in another turn. Han heard the turrets open fire seconds later, followed by a swear. "I can't hit it. The shots keep disappearing!"

They were now halfway around Sernpidal, and the warship had just disappeared behind the planet's bulk. Up ahead, all Han could see with both his eyes and the sensors was open space. He snorted to himself; these invaders were pretty inept if they were trying to run a blockade with only one warship.

Another part of his mind disagreed, considering the fact that perhaps a blockade wasn't their _aim_, maybe they just wanted the planet and any people they captured were a nice bonus.

But didn't that defeat the purpose of sneak attacks if you let people get away?

"Somebody else got 'em," Leia said, snapping Han out of his thoughts in an instant.

"See any more?"

"Not around here," she replied, "but there are a few harassing some ships at the end of the line from what I can tell."

"We're clear!" he said, slamming back the hyperdrive controls and sighing in relief as the stars blurred with pseudomotion. He climbed out of his chair, stretching as the pent-up stress of the situation hit him all at once. When his back finally popped, he began walking to the medical berth.

The Wookiee weakly turned his head toward Han, moaning something that he could barely understand. He looked up at the lifesign monitors and his face went pale.

"Hang in there, Chewie," he said quietly, hoping against all hope that his old companion would find the will to continue living as he applied more bandages. He then grabbed an emergency hydration bag from one of the compartments, hung it up above Chewie, and quickly stuck its drip needle into Chewie's arm. "We'll be there before you know it."

Using what little was left of his strength, Chewie moved his arm, still soaked in blood, to put it on Han's shoulder. He moaned softly again then coughed, blood trickling out of his mouth as he did.

"No, Chewie, you can't say that!" Han insisted strongly. "You'll make it!"

Chewie repeated the moan, softer this time. He gasped and coughed, more blood coming out, and he barely managed to gasp out one last word.

Then he was gone.

Han was silent for what seemed like an eternity as he watched Chewie's lifeless form lying before him on the berth, frustrated by the utter hopelessness of the situation. Chewie was gone, despite everything he could do, and yet he still felt guilty, almost wishing that he had been the one down fighting the creature.

It didn't matter to him right now that Chewie, in his last words, had told him that his life debt was fulfilled.

For the first time since he was a child, Han broke down, screaming at the injustice of the universe. His screams got quieter and quieter until he was finally sobbing uncontrollably with his head on Chewie's chest.

At some point during his outburst Leia had heard him from the cockpit and came to see what was going on. She didn't say a word, just kneeling down next to him, gently reaching out. He didn't even notice as she pulled him up against her. Her gesture said more than words ever could.

How long he continued weeping that day, he would never be able to tell.


End file.
